


In Joy and Woe, as in a Doubtful Ease

by AngelQueen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Canon Het Relationship, Community: paperlegends, Diary/Journal, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Secrets, Male Friendship, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana's second occupation has wrought extensive damage and in the weeks following his restoration, Arthur struggles to help Camelot recover its former strength. With starvation a looming threat to his people, he seeks the aid of his foreign allies. However, a helping hand comes from an unexpected source - the kingdom of Cornwall, which has been closed and silent to Camelot for decades. After accepting an invitation to visit the mysterious kingdom and its equally mysterious ruler, Arthur finds himself thrust into a web of secrets kept from him his entire life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Joy and Woe, as in a Doubtful Ease

[ ](http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y64/AngelQueen/bigbangpics/header1.png)

  


“ _Merlin_!” 

Such a shout – a very kingly bellow – was no doubt very familiar to the inhabitants of the citadel. They’d certainly heard their king yell for his wayward manservant often enough in the years since Merlin had come into his service. Still, as familiar as it was to everyone, it made it no less irritating to Arthur himself for having to shout for the idiot.

He stood in the center of his chambers, his hair wet and body still slightly damp from the bath he’d just finished taking. There was a thick towel wrapped around his waist, but except for that, he was without even his smallclothes. Arthur ground his teeth in annoyance. Was it truly that difficult for Merlin to have returned by now with a clean set of clothes for him to wear for the council meeting that was due to begin in less than twenty minutes?

Arthur glared at the closed door and opened his mouth, ready to holler for Merlin again, when suddenly the door in question flew open. Merlin dashed in, skidding to a halt long enough to slam the door shut again behind him. “I’m here, I’m here!” the younger man exclaimed, holding out several different articles of clothing, all of which were bunched together messily. 

Arthur rolled his eyes and, while holding the towel to his body with one hand, reached out with his other hand to snatch them from Merlin. “How is it that you’re even _more_ incompetent now when you have an assistant to help you with your duties?” he asked, turning and walking back behind his changing screen. After tossing his clothes on a nearby stand, he discarded his towel. “Edgar is supposed to make things _easier_ ,” he added.

Arthur could hear Merlin’s snort. “You would think so,” he replied, “but Edgar wasn’t taught to be a manservant any more than I was. It’s going to take a while to get him trained up to Your Pratness’ specifications.” There was a rustle of papers, and then Merlin continued, “Tell me again why George couldn’t do all of this? He’s so well-suited to it. He’d _love_ to slave over your washing day in and day out.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he quickly dressed himself. “Because George took a position in Lord Lionel’s household,” he explained yet again, not bothering to add that Arthur would have refused to make George Merlin’s assistant even if he hadn’t. He could only stand the other man in small doses, much like Gaius’ foul-tasting tonics, and would have assuredly gone mad if the man had been permanently assigned to his service. 

Once he’d finished, Arthur glanced in the mirror. His hair was stuck up in various places, so he quickly grabbed a nearby comb and ran it through the wet strands. After a few brushes, he was satisfied and stepped back out into the room. Merlin, he saw, was standing by his desk, his hands full of documents. His head was bent as his eyes roamed over the top document in the pile. 

“Come along, Merlin,” Arthur said. “If you’ve made me late, it’s the stocks for you and Edgar both.”

Merlin merely hummed an absent agreement, following along behind him as he moved to leave the room. His eyes were intent on the documents in his hands.

Arthur led the way to the council chamber, nodding to the various servants that he and Merlin passed along the way. The citadel had been a veritable beehive of activity in the past several weeks since Camelot had been retaken. This occupation had been briefer than the previous one – five days as opposed to ten – but it had been far more destructive. While the immortal soldiers Morgana and Morgause had commandeered had fought their way into Camelot, they had not despoiled the castle while they had occupied it. It seemed that immortals had no need to piss and shit in every corner, or wreck the kitchens in their demands to be fed the food of kings and nobles, or torment the servants when the mood struck them. That, unfortunately, wasn’t the case with Helios’ army of mercenaries. The stench they’d left behind had only recently begun to fade from the corridors, though Ida, the head of the kitchens, was still bemoaning the damage done to her domain.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though, Arthur reminded himself grimly. There had been several reported cases of the mercenaries importuning maids. None had straightforwardly declared that they had been raped, but Arthur had seen the wary, frightened eyes of enough of the young women to know that there had been more than a pat or pinch of the backside going on. 

In the retaking of Camelot, many of the mercenaries had fought back, but they had been caught off-guard, much as Arthur and his knights had been the night of Beltane. Some had surrendered, but many had resisted, even to the death, when they’d seen no avenue of escape. Those that had surrendered had been locked away in the dungeons – Arthur had made a point of putting them in the same squalid areas that they’d confined men like Gaius, Gwaine, and Elyan in – pending a trial. That was just one of the many tasks that were on his plate and that of his council.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_Greetings, my name is Vevay. I am the Princess of Cornwall, daughter of Varlen, Prince of Cornwall and his wife, the Lady Kaelyn de Bois. My twin sister is Vivienne, Lady of Cornwall._

_I find this journal very strange. It was a gift from my nurse, Asa, this past night. She herself does not know how to write, but told me that my mother’s handwriting was very fine, and that by writing in this journal I will improve my penmanship and write as well as my mother did. This is why I am writing, though it still feels strange, writing things as though I am speaking to someone._

_My sister and I were born in Tintagel, the capital of Cornwall. We have grown up there, but now we are leaving. Our parents and many of our people were recently lost to the sweating sickness, which kills so many every year. Asa says that it is a miracle that Vivienne and I did not also succumb._

_We are to travel to the lands of our mother’s brother, Lord Aglovale de Bois. He is to be our guardian and steward of Cornwall until we are of age. Once I am seventeen, just four years away, I will be of an age to rule, and Vivienne and I can return home. Asa will be coming with us, as will Edith, who is my sister’s nurse and special instructor. Vivienne is a Seer, you see. Her gift isn’t an especially powerful one, but it is intense and according to Edith, even the smallest gift in Seeing can cause great harm if a person does not receive proper training on how to control it. That is why Edith was employed by my parents. Before, Asa had overseen both Vivienne and me, but with Edith’s inclusion, Asa was left to look after me more closely than she had been able to before._

_I have never met my uncle, though I do remember my mother speaking highly of him, and clearly my father trusted him with the care and safety of his daughters and his kingdom. As much as I do not want to leave Tintagel, I admit to being a bit curious about him – and his family, who are also my kin._

_I shall write again when I have more to say._

  


Upon entering the room, Arthur saw that he and Merlin thankfully were not the last to arrive. In the aftermath of Agravaine’s betrayal, Arthur had begun working to reorganize his council. There was no way he could be certain that Agravaine hadn’t had the others in his pocket, having them look the other way while he performed his treasonous activities on Morgana’s behalf. What made him especially suspicious of them was the fact that, out of all of the council members, only Gaius and Geoffrey had been imprisoned during the occupation. The rest had been left unmolested, their property undamaged, while Gaius’ workroom and Geoffrey’s suite of chambers had been thoroughly ransacked. 

There was no way to be entirely certain, aside from interrogation and possibly torture, but the fact remained that Arthur couldn’t trust the majority of the council that is father had left him. There was nothing to do but replace them. His current council was the result of his actions. 

Gwen had seated herself to the left of Arthur’s own chair and was deep in conversation with Leon, who sat next to her. There had been some mutterings from the nobles about his decision to appoint his wife to the council – something not even his father had done for his mother, for all that he had valued her advice and wisdom, according to the stories – but Arthur had brushed their concerns aside. He considered Gwen wiser than most men he knew. He wasn’t about to let pride and tradition get in the way of having her voice heard.

Leon’s presence was a given. Even before Morgana had invaded, the knight had been an unofficial member of the council. Now he was a full-fledged member, and Arthur thought that they were all the better for it. He, like Gwen, was more inclined to be the voice of reason, offsetting Arthur’s more impulsive tendencies. 

In addition to Gwen and Leon, Arthur had also appointed Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival. No one could reasonably object to Elyan, given his status as the brother of Camelot’s new queen, and Gwaine and Percival were of proven loyalty. Arthur knew he would have to appoint others in the future, mostly from the nobles, so as to keep them from shrieking about favoritism being granted to the ‘lowborn’ elements of Arthur’s court. Still, that could wait, when he’d had time to evaluate the noble houses.

Gaius and Geoffrey retained their places at the table, though their recovery from their days in captivity had been slow. Geoffrey was still absent, recuperating under the devoted care of his wife, daughter, and his son’s wife. 

Lastly, there was Merlin. Arthur had known that there would be even more protests over the idea of appointing a servant to the council, even one who had proved his loyalty on numerous occasions. That had been why Arthur had slowly begun raising Merlin’s status in the eyes of the world. Technically, Merlin wasn’t even his manservant any longer, but rather his personal assistant and scribe. Merlin still performed some his old duties, though, such as caring for Arthur’s armor and weapons. The other man absolutely refused to let anyone so much as touch the sword that Arthur had pulled from the stone, let alone clean it. Aside from those tasks, however, Merlin was training Edgar to take over as Arthur’s manservant.

As Arthur strode in, Merlin at his heels, some of those present had leapt to their feet in respect. Or rather, Leon and Elyan did. Gwaine, for instance, just waved at him cheerily from his chair while he contented himself with eating an apple. Gwen smiled at him, looking particularly fetching in the lovely blue gown that had just lately been delivered from the seamstresses. Before Arthur sat down at the head of the table, he reached out and took Gwen’s hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. He struggled to repress a grin when she blushed.

Gwaine, predictably, groaned. “All right, lovebirds, save it for later, after the rest of us have gone to get ourselves some attention of our own,” he said teasingly. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You mean there’s a barmaid in Camelot that hasn’t slapped you for your attempts to get their ‘attention’?” he mocked, and then glanced around. “Percival and Gaius?”

“Percival went to accompany Gaius, Sire,” Leon supplied. When Merlin, who had seated himself at Arthur’s right, straightened up in alarm, he added, “He’s all right, just weary.” 

Merlin calmed, but still had a pensive expression on his face. 

Percival and Gaius did indeed join them in the next few minutes, taking their places at the table, the former between Elyan and Leon and the latter between Merlin and Gwaine. Once they were all giving him his attention, Arthur spoke. “What news?”

Leon was the first to respond. “Elyan and I have been taking stock of the damage to the crops and supplies throughout the kingdom, Sire,” he said. “It seems that when the people refused to accept and honor Morgana as Queen, she ordered that their crops be burned. No doubt she hoped to starve them into submission.”

Arthur suppressed a flinch, trying not to remember all of the times Morgana had urged his… _their_ father to supplement the people’s food supplies when they faced lean times due to mediocre harvests, or the time when the kingdom had faced starvation because of Arthur killing a unicorn and she and Gwen had distributed food to the people. It still bewildered him, how much she had changed. When had she changed from the people’s fiercest advocate to their greatest nemesis?

“Her men were zealous in following her orders,” Elyan said. “They spread out, going nearly a league out from Camelot, burning anything edible.” His expression darkened. “They even killed any livestock they found too.”

Arthur winced. 

“The good news, however,” Elyan added, “is that they focused on the area closest to Camelot. Many of the outlying areas remained untouched, so the kingdom hasn’t lost its entire crop, or all of its livestock.” 

That was good news, true. It meant that they still had resources. He supposed he should be grateful that Morgana, Helios, and Agravaine had been too focused on hunting him and Merlin down like dogs to take the time to fully secure the outer reaches of the kingdom. However, the areas closest to Camelot were also the most fertile and where the majority of the kingdom’s food had been grown. While it was good to have the crops from the outlying regions, it wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to feed the entire kingdom come winter. “What about the grain stores here in the city?” Arthur asked.

It was Leon’s turn to wince. “Unfortunately, the stores were some of the first places that the mercenaries got into. They greatly enjoyed the fruit of our people’s labor,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone. 

Arthur didn’t blame him. Although Leon had never been close to Morgana, the two had once shared a deep concern for the welfare of Camelot's citizens. It had hit him particularly hard, seeing Morgana’s willingness to target the people when it suited her purposes.

Forcing himself to return to the subject at hand, Arthur leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “It’s still early enough in the year to replant the crops that were lost,” he pointed out, more to himself than to anyone else.

Merlin looked up from the papers in front of him, where he had been scratching down notes at a furious pace. “We could,” he agreed, “but the growing season will go well past the customary harvest time. If there’s a deep frost before the farmers are able to bring the crops in, then we run the risk of losing much of it.”

“That’s true,” Gwen spoke up. “It’s not a matter of manpower in the field – at harvest, everyone contributes, from the youngest children to the oldest grandfathers – it’s a matter of the food ripening quickly enough before the cold sets in.”

Arthur nodded. They were right, but that still left them with the problem. Without a crop, the people would starve in the winter months. They would have to think of something to prevent that.

Gwen’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Perhaps,” she said, her tone growing a little hesitant, “perhaps we could call upon our allies for help?”

He turned to look at her, surprised at the suggestion. It wasn’t one Arthur had yet considered. Before he could even begin to frame a reply, Merlin voiced his opinion. “It’s a good idea,” he said. “We have all of these treaties with many of the different kingdoms, and they include provisions for the exchange of foodstuffs and other supplies where needed. Why not call that in?”

 _And let it be known that Camelot is weak? That Morgana actually succeeded in hurting us this time?_ The questions were on the tip of Arthur’s tongue, and he could almost hear his father’s voice saying them in his head. They were questions his father wouldn’t have failed to ask if his own council had offered up this suggestion.

Arthur swept his gaze over the faces of the rest of those seated at the table. Gaius’ expression was as inscrutable as ever, though he was still paler than normal. His recovery from the captivity Morgana had subjected him was slow, and Arthur knew that Merlin worried constantly for his mentor’s health. Gwaine and Percival didn’t seem to object to the idea, nor did Elyan. Leon, who had lived and served under Arthur’s father, looked a little uncomfortable with it. Perhaps he too was recalling his father’s attitudes toward anything that would make Camelot seem less than absolutely perfect and fruitful.

 _Have you no pride?_ His father had asked him that once, several years ago when their kingdom stood on the brink of collapse because of Arthur’s own arrogance and stupidity. It wasn’t difficult for Arthur to recall his own response, though. 

_I cannot think of my pride when our people go hungry. They’re all I can think of._

His father had said that one day Arthur would understand what it took to be King, and now he did understand. His people were in danger of starving, and he had the choice of either asking for help from his allies, or taking the risk that they could replace what had been lost before the winter frosts began.

_They’re all I can think of._

Finally, Arthur spoke up. “We’ll send out riders to King Olaf, Queen Annis, and Lord Godwyn, asking to trade Camelot metals and gold for a percentage of their foodstuffs.” Technically, he could also ask Mercia and Nemeth for help too, but Bayard was old and left much of the administration of his kingdom to his eldest son, Ban, a man whose attitudes and goals Arthur wasn’t entirely certain about. He wasn’t going to open himself up to the man until he had a better measure of him. As for Nemeth, although Arthur had ceded his claims to Gedref to them as an apology for refusing Princess Mithian’s hand, there was still a chill to their current relations that made him hesitate to try their patience at the present time. Between Olaf, Annis, and Godwyn’s kingdoms, they might be able to gain enough food to supplement whatever Camelot managed to grow and harvest this year and get through the winter. He nodded to Merlin. “Make a note of it. I’ll start drafting the letters this evening.”

Merlin’s dark head bent over his papers, scratching away. “Yes, Sire.”

They moved on to several other subjects, which kept them all occupied for the next two hours. As a result, Arthur was quite relieved then the meeting came to an end. As he stood up, though, Gwaine appeared at his right, giving him a pointed look. “A moment, Princess?” he asked.

Arthur nodded and turned to Merlin, but saw that he was already walking out, his papers gathered in the crook of one arm while Gaius leaned on the other. Their heads were bent together, deep in conversation. Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn’t even bother feeling offended that Merlin had left before receiving any instructions his king might have for him. Merlin did as he wished, just as he always did. Arthur had long grown accustomed to it.

Gwen was still present, standing beside the chair she had vacated, waiting for him as the other knights all filed out. For a moment, Arthur considered sending her out with the others, but then checked himself. He had a good idea of what Gwaine wanted to discuss with him, and while sensitive, there was no reason to exclude Gwen from the conversation. 

Nodding to the guards, who reacted immediately and stepped out of the room, closing the doors to the council chamber behind them, Arthur turned back to Gwaine. “What have you found out?”

Gwaine’s customary cheerful insolence was noticeably absent in his posture. Though he leaned against what had been Merlin’s chair with a casual air, his dark eyes were serious. “A little,” he replied. “While Morgana imprisoned the knights and brought some of us out for her own entertainment, she didn’t do the same with the squires or the servants.” There was a flicker of… something in his eyes, but Arthur didn’t question him about it. He knew that Morgana had targeted Gwaine specifically for her ‘entertainment’, and it was only in the last few days that Gwaine had recovered enough to resume working on the training field. If Gwaine resented or even hated Morgana, Arthur could hardly blame him.

“She was also pretty much oblivious to them,” Gwaine continued, unaware of Arthur’s own thoughts. “It seems that Gaheris and Gareth,” he said, referring to his and Leon’s squires, two young brothers, “took it upon themselves to spy on her however they could. They even recruited some of the servants to help them, and apparently they heard something the night before you stormed Camelot.”

“Heard what?” Gwen cut in. “Arthur, what’s this about?”

He glanced at her. “I asked Gwaine to see what he could find out concerning my uncle’s fate. I need to know if he’s still alive to help Morgana cause further trouble.” It was true. For many years, Agravaine had been the lord of the de Bois family holdings, which were extensive enough that they spread over three different kingdoms, including Camelot. Even if Arthur were to confiscate the portion that fell under his jurisdiction, Agravaine would still have the resources of the other two-thirds of his lands, a significant sum, at his disposal. His _and_ Morgana’s. 

Gwen’s gaze sharpened at the mention of Agravaine, and she nodded. “I see.”

Arthur turned back to Gwaine, who didn’t even need any prompt to continue. “Helios sent out a search party to find Agravaine and his party when they didn’t return from pursuing you to Ealdor. They overheard Helios giving Morgana the report of what they found.”

“And?”

Gwaine took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Gaheris said that Helios told her that Agravaine and the others had been killed, all of them, after being pursued into the caves by a dragon.”

Arthur froze. A dragon?! He shook his head. “That’s impossible. My father destroyed the dragons, and the last one died some years ago.”

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” Arthur snapped. “I’m the one who killed it.” At least, according to Merlin, he was. Dealt it a mortal blow, he’d said. Arthur had taken his word for it, as his memory of that entire encounter was all very fuzzy. Still, it had been an unusual situation. His father had later sent out riders to find the beast’s carcass, but no trace of it was ever discovered. 

What if Merlin had been wrong? What if Arthur’s blow with the spear had merely wounded the dragon? What if the Great Dragon was still alive, waiting to strike at Camelot again, especially now that there were no Dragonlords left to command him, with the last one dead?

On the other hand, the Great Dragon’s assault had happened almost three years ago. If the dragon had only been wounded, why had he not attacked again once he had healed? There was nothing to stop him from doing so.

Arthur sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. This complicated things, to be sure, but he still needed to know the details of what Helios and Morgana had known of Agravaine’s death. “Did they hear anything else?” he asked at last.

Gwaine eyed him for a brief moment and then replied, “Just that Morgana believed that someone called Emrys was responsible, for both commanding a dragon and for killing Agravaine.”

Emrys. Yet again, Arthur was hearing that name. He was almost certain that it belonged to the old sorcerer, the one who had promised to heal his father and had instead presided over his deathbed, or so Arthur had thought. Gaius had denied that the old man had killed his father, but had instead used every power and ability at his disposal to try to save him. “I keep hearing that name,” Arthur murmured.

“Morgana thought that this ‘Emrys’ was protecting you,” Gwen said softly.

Arthur nodded. “I remember.”

“Yeah, well,” Gwaine cut in, straightening, “if it’s true, then he might not be a bad ally to have. Gareth said that Morgana supposedly saw Emrys later, thought he was in the citadel, but Helios and his thugs found no sign of him. It sounds like she was paranoid.”

“That, or mad,” Arthur muttered. _Or both._

Gwaine left the chamber soon after, leaving Arthur alone with Gwen. He sighed, sitting back down in his chair. She joined him, retaking her own seat and then reaching out and taking his hand in hers. He squeezed it appreciatively.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” she said. “I know that he meant a great deal to you.”

He had, Arthur didn’t deny it. Agravaine had been the last of the de Bois family, his mother’s kin. Arthur had been absurdly grateful when his uncle had come to Camelot in the months after Morgana’s first occupation, all smiles and eager to be of service to his inexperienced nephew during his regency. Looking back, Arthur wondered bitterly if Morgana had coached Agravaine on how to behave when he approached him. 

Of course, Arthur had to reserve some of the blame for the situation for himself. He’d had an inkling that his uncle might be involved in treasonous activities when Arthur, Merlin, and the knights had been ambushed in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Agravaine had been his prime suspect for that near-disaster, but Arthur had allowed the older man to distract him with accusations against Gaius. Arthur had caved like a weak-willed boy, even allowing Agravaine to interrogate the physician, as though Arthur knew _nothing_ about rooting out a traitor. When was it ever a good idea to let one suspect question another? Was he truly so desperate to have a family, any family, that he was willing to put those most loyal to him at risk? Arthur had tasted Agravaine’s true motives, but had let him get away just so he could revel in the delusion that his uncle cared for him.

His true motives. Perhaps that was what hurt most of all. Agravaine was _his_ uncle, not Morgana’s. Agravaine was a de Bois, not a member of whatever family Morgana’s mother came from. If he had remained loyal, Agravaine would have been assured a place of honor, wielding a great deal of influence and basking in the love and appreciation of his sister’s son. So why had Agravaine betrayed him? Why had he chosen Morgana over him? It was a question that had been branded into his mind ever since he and Merlin had seen Agravaine step up to Morgana’s side during the invasion, and it was a question that would never be answered.

“I want to know why, Gwen,” he whispered. “Morgana, my father, and now Agravaine. Why?” He’d spoken of this to Merlin, when they had been making the final trek to Ealdor with Tristan and Isolde. Merlin had been so sure that it was no fault of his that Morgana and Agravaine had betrayed him, but Arthur couldn’t share his certainty. It nagged at him constantly, a doubt and fear that never went away.

Gwen had no response for him, indeed he hadn’t expected one, but she stood up and moved around the table. Urging him to sit back, she seated herself in his lap. Arthur’s eyebrows went up and, unbidden, a smile tugged at his lips. 

She wrapped her arms around him in a loose embrace and leaned her forehead against his. “Just remember,” she whispered, “there are people here who are loyal to you, who love you.”

It didn’t solve the problem of Agravaine, but her words were a balm nonetheless.

  


_Solstone_

_Today we arrived at the house of my uncle, Lord Aglovale. As we approached, I saw that he had spared nothing in his welcome, summoning his family, knights, and even his servants to gather outside to greet Vivienne and me._

_Lord Aglovale’s wife is Lady Ygrisa, a pretty, fair-haired woman some years his junior. Her two children are Ygraine and Tristan, twins just like Vivienne and me. They are both fair-haired with blue eyes, resembling both their parents equally. Both seem very charming, so I have no doubt that Vivienne’s misery over leaving home will soon dissipate in the face of finding people who are very much like her._

_My uncle also has another, older son. If I recall what my mother said correctly, Lord Aglovale was married to another woman before he wed Lady Ygrisa, a woman named Corliss. She died giving birth to his firstborn son, Agravaine. He made for a very strange sight, all dark hair and swarthy skin standing next to a golden-haired father, stepmother, and half-siblings. He must resemble his mother. Unlike his younger brother and sister, Agravaine did not smile, but instead merely bowed solemnly when his father introduced him. He seemed rather sullen._

_Vivienne and I have each been provided with our own chambers just across from one another. Solstone, it turns out, is not Aglovale’s main residence, but is rather a place for his family to retreat for some semblance of privacy. Lady Ygrisa informed me that we will all be staying here for a few weeks before traveling to Brieland, some twenty miles away and the ‘capital’ of the de Bois holdings. She said that her lord felt it best that we accustom ourselves to our new situation in the family’s private home, where there the pace of life is slower and not so overwhelming as it is in Brieland._

_My new chambers are very nice. They are large, perhaps larger than the nursery that Vivienne and I had shared at home with Asa and Edith. The bed is large too, with a beautiful canopy of sheer blue curtains all around it. There is a small truckle bed as well that can be pulled out from under my bed. That will be for Asa. There is even a small room off of mine for a handmaiden, when the time comes to have one for my very own._

_There is a great deal of furniture in my chamber too. A dressing table and mirror (something I’ve never had before because my father felt it an unnecessary expense for little girls, never mind that Vivienne and I are thirteen now), a wardrobe, a secretary, and a large table for hosting a small number of guests for a meal, if I should choose._

_I do not know if Tintagel has such fineries. Aglovale must be a powerful and wealthy man indeed, if he provides such great luxuries for his guests._

  


The rest of Arthur’s day was a busy one, and he didn’t get a chance to think on the letters he had to write to his fellow rulers. By the time that the evening meal had wound down, Arthur honestly wasn’t thinking of much of anything beyond his wife.

He and Gwen walked hand-in-hand through the corridors toward his chambers at a slow, leisurely pace. They stopped at a window along the way, staring out over the town. There were many lights adorning the windows of the various buildings, and Arthur could hear the faint echoes of laughter on the evening air. 

The repairs to the city were far from complete, but there was a hint of hope in the air, of satisfaction. People had a roof over their heads, even if some were sharing with the people who had lost their homes in the fires, and a blanket to cover them. For all the hardships they faced, at least they had a place to lay their heads down at night and food to put in their bellies. It gave Arthur hope as well. They could recover from this, he was sure of it.

He looked down at Gwen, who was also staring out at the town. Arthur had had a taste of what life was like without her, and it wasn’t something he wanted to sample again. After watching Tristan endure Isolde’s loss, Arthur had known that he would never be able to let Gwen go again. Clinging to his hurt feelings over her actions with Lancelot suddenly seemed pointless. 

She had made a mistake, but what person in the world hadn’t?

She seemed to sense his gaze on her, because she looked up at him quizzically. “What is it?” she asked him.

Arthur smiled faintly and shook his head. “Nothing,” he murmured. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I love you,” he whispered against her dark curls.

Gwen’s lips morphed into a smile of her own. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek. “And I you,” she replied.

They continued their trek to Arthur’s chambers, which Gwen now shared with him more often than not, arm-in-arm. Once inside, Arthur shut the door behind them and they both leaned against it. They hadn’t passed anyone in the corridors, not even any of the servants, but still, the door was shut and they were alone. Being alone had always been such a rare commodity for them before their marriage. More often than not, Merlin had been nearby, or Agravaine, or Gaius, or anyone really. The door to whatever room they were in was left open, for the sake of propriety.

Now there was no need for that. Camelot’s king and queen could be alone as much as they wish. It was something he and Gwen were still trying to become accustomed to. 

As though she had read his mind, Gwen smiled and leaned up to brush a kiss across his lips. It was light, like the touch of a butterfly’s wings, if Arthur had been given to thinking such fanciful things, and he reveled in it, and in her company. He —

“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly penetrated the bubble of privacy he and Gwen had established in the room. He felt Gwen jerk in shock and knew that she too had heard it.

Arthur growled in frustration. There was only one person who would be in his chambers this late in the day. No one else would have dared. “ _Merlin_ …” Reluctantly, Arthur stepped away from Gwen and turned to face the other man.

Merlin’s cheeks were stained a faint pink, and he was purposely looking anywhere but him or Gwen. “I, uh, I was working on, um,” he stumbled over his words.

“Spit. It. Out.” Arthur ground out through gritted teeth, his eyes straying toward Gwen, who had moved to stand beside him. Her hands ran over her hair nervously, even though it was still perfectly in place. Her expression was a study in embarrassment, even though they hadn’t been doing anything even remotely scandalous.

“On the letters,” Merlin blurted out, reclaiming Arthur’s attention. “I was working on a draft for the letters you were going to send, the ones about the foodstuffs!” It was pathetic, how relieved he sounded.

Arthur gave him a pointed glare. “Fine,” he conceded. “Leave it. We’ll go over it in the morning. _After_ breakfast,” he added with some emphasis. The last thing he wanted was Merlin showing up at the crack of dawn, full of advice about _letters_ while Arthur was in bed with his _wife_. “Now, get out.”

Thankfully, Merlin didn’t seem inclined to argue with him, for once. His face was still flushed, and he kept his eyes lowered as he slipped past him and Gwen and out the door, leaving them alone. 

“Idiot,” Arthur muttered. “He needs a hobby.”

Gwen chuckled, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “I think this _is_ his hobby, Arthur. He’s taken to being your scribe quite enthusiastically, much more so than he ever did his duties as a manservant.” She straightened, staring at him with amusement in her dark eyes. “Merlin is quite the politician, it seems.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “He should get himself a girl,” he maintained. “I’m surprised Gwaine hasn’t tried to distract him with one of the barmaids, since he drags him to the taverns so often.”

Smiling, Gwen shrugged and took his hands, leading him further into the chambers. “I’m sure Gwaine will take that as a personal crusade if you tell him so,” she teased. 

Arthur chuckled and took that moment to steal a small kiss from her before they separated to prepare for bed.

  


_**Solstone** _

_It seems that the de Bois’ maintain closer ties to one another than I expected. At home, my sister and I spent much of our time in the care of our nurses and a tutor, learning what was expected of girls of our station. Perhaps once or twice a week, Vivienne and I would be dressed in our finest clothes and taken to visit our parents. Sometimes, we would join them for a meal, where our mother would speak to us on what we were being taught. Father never seemed to say much, though if we brought examples of our needlework, he would examine them and compliment our work if it was good, and scold us for any mistakes. I was always amazed that he could spot errors in the patterns, since men don’t generally learn needlework. Other than instances like that, however, we did not interact with our parents much._

_At Solstone, it is different. The de Bois’ take at least one meal a day together, the morning one, but often they even take the evening meal together as well. They all seem to be very much involved in each other’s lives. Aglovale knows just as much about his daughter’s education in household management as he does in his sons’ in weapons’ mastery. They speak extensively to one another, not just having the children sit quietly and speaking only when spoken to. It was very startling, at first. Vivienne, though, has grown used to such behavior, and has no problem enthralling Ygraine with stories of Cornwall._

_As for me, I remained quiet, preferring to observe a bit more, but the de Bois’ had no intention of letting me keep the sole company of my own thoughts. It was my uncle who began to speak to me after a while, asking me how I liked Solstone, if my chambers had proved satisfactory, and other such things. I answered politely, stating that Solstone was quite lovely and my chambers very comfortable. He kept speaking to me, and even Tristan and Agravaine joined in, and before I knew what I was about, I was enthusiastically discussing horses with the men._

_Perhaps this closer relationship that the de Bois’ seem intent on drawing Vivienne and I into is not so terrible._

  


The following morning, Merlin arrived in Arthur’s chambers just as he and Gwen were finishing breakfast. There was an awkward silence, Merlin standing in the doorway, looking anywhere but at the two of them. Arthur studiously ignored the man’s discomfort, keeping his attention on the last of his food. 

It was Gwen who broke the stalemate. “Come, Merlin,” she said, gesturing to the table. “Have something.” Her tone was completely even and relaxed, as though nothing embarrassing had occurred the previous night.

Her behavior seemed to be just what Merlin needed, because he did indeed sit down to join them, helping himself to a piece of bread and a scoop of preserves. Arthur rolled his eyes. Not long ago, Merlin had never even bothered to wait to be asked to have some, simply snatching bites from Arthur’s plate with a teasing grin. Apparently, Gwen inspired Merlin to remember his manners. 

She didn’t remain long after that, leaving them alone to go oversee the continuing reconstruction in the lower town. “Take Elyan or one of the other knights with you,” Arthur called after her. He knew that no one of Camelot would dream of harming Gwen – many of the residents had known her since she was a nurseling – but there was always the chance of assassins. Morgana was still at large, was good at disguising herself, and had shown herself to be especially hostile to Gwen. He couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Morgana might seek to kill Gwen even now, and a knife in the ribs could be just as fatal as magic. 

Once Arthur and Merlin had both finished their meal, they moved over to Arthur’s desk. There were several parchments there from the night before, as well as a few new ones that had arrived that morning. As Merlin started shuffling through them, Arthur skimmed through the letter drafts Merlin had left for him. Taking up a quill, he made a few notes on them, crossing out a few things and adding something different, underlining a few passages that were acceptable for use.

“What do you think?” Merlin asked.

Arthur glanced up at him, and then back down at the drafts. “Not bad,” he said grudgingly. “A bit preachy, which I’ll fix, but you’re definitely getting better at this.”

Merlin just beamed at him, as though Arthur had paid him the highest compliment in the world. Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. Honestly, Merlin could be such a _girl_ sometimes, always lighting up under the faintest of praise.

He settled himself more deeply into his chair and began writing. He made certain to keep the tone of his letters polite but firm, having no intention of being seen to beg for the assistance of his allies. A request coupled with the offer of remuneration, on the other hand, was perfectly acceptable in the eyes of any reasonable person.

Arthur wrote out three copies of the letter, all with virtually the same proposals, though he made sure to couple that with a few sentences regarding matters of importance tailored to each of the recipients. When he was finished, he muttered, “Now who to take them?”

Merlin heard him. “Elyan would probably be a good person to send,” he suggested. Arthur thought on that a moment, and then agreed. Elyan had shown himself to be fairly diplomatic when he had to be, and as the brother of Camelot's new Queen, no one could accuse Arthur of sending someone of low importance.

He nodded. “Elyan can take one to Caerleon,” he said, “and Leon can take one to Olaf’s kingdom.” Leon was of high birth, the son of a wealthy lord, albeit a younger son. That just left Lord Godwyn, but Arthur wasn’t too worried about him. Godwyn himself had imposed fewer restrictions on who could join the knights who served him than Camelot, and as such, many of his knights were from the lower classes. Arthur could send anyone and Godwyn would welcome them. “Sir Samuel can go to Lord Godwyn,” he finally added. Samuel was the son of a minor baron, and had proven himself to be as devoted to Camelot as anyone.

He carefully folded the parchments and closed them with melted wax and his seal. With that finished, Arthur set them aside. There were plenty of other matters to attend to before he joined the knights on the training field later on that morning. Merlin, thankfully, had put everything into order before he’d placed them in front of him, so Arthur was able to get through them with relative quickness.

  


_**Solstone** _

_I have been at Solstone a month now, and I have to say, it is not horrible at all. I still miss Tintagel, but it is the longing for home, and not necessarily the desire to return to the way things were there. I’ve found that I enjoy interacting with my aunt and uncle, and receiving a significant amount of their attention. It is also rather interesting to have someone like Tristan around. Vivienne and I have never had a brother, or any other male presence in our life except for our father, and he has proven himself quite the pest, often playing japes upon the two of us and his own twin. Ygraine, it seems, doesn’t hesitate to retaliate, and prevails upon the two of us to assist her._

_Agravaine, however, has proven to be different from the rest of his family in more than appearance. Though he is nothing but polite to all of us, and respectful to his father, there doesn’t seem to be any true warmth in his eyes when he interacts with any of us. Very strange._

_I have news. Over our evening meal, my uncle announced that we have tarried at Solstone long enough, and will be traveling to Brieland within the week. Tristan was thrilled, as it would mean that the training of the new knights will begin, and he has been deemed ready to join them. Agravaine was as unaffected as ever, but assured his father that he would be ready. Ygraine nearly bounced out of her chair in excitement, promising that she would show Vivienne and I all of the secret areas of the castle in Brieland, which prompted Ygrisa to scold her daughter for behaving intemperately, though I don’t think she meant it entirely as she was smiling a little as she said it._

_After the meal ended, my uncle asked me to join him in his study, as he had something he wished to discuss with me. Leaving Ygrisa to herd the others elsewhere, I followed him. Once we were seated, he began to say that he was quite pleased with my academic progress. Vivienne and I had joined Ygraine with her tutor not long after we arrived at Solstone, and had found ourselves moving at a much more rapid pace than we were accustomed to at home, but had managed to find out feet._

_I thanked him, as I was quite proud of myself for learning so quickly the things that Ygraine’s tutor had taught us. The man, Howland, is a stern man, one who believes that a woman’s mind is best kept occupied by rigorous educational standards, and not just from “fripperies” like needlework. He teaches us about the complexities of household management, and even has us practice in ledgers he provides for us. He expects us to keep the knowledge fresh in our minds, as it is something we will need to do once we are married to great lords who will expect us to keep their households in perfect working order. Howland has little patience for any type of sloth on our parts, and even less for Vivienne’s complaining, as she dislikes dealing with numbers the most of all. After one bout of grumbling, he quite testily informed her that men of good sense do not want stupid or useless wives. Implying that she might be stupid was probably the best thing he could have done. For all her dislike of numbers, Vivienne thinks highly of her intelligence. Now she focuses on her work, if only to spite Howland._

_It was very well done, masterfully so, I think._

_My uncle then went on to explain that he felt that as the oldest twin and my status as the Princess of Cornwall, I required additional tutoring. When I came of age, I would be expected to take up the active ruling of my kingdom. Even if I had a husband by then, it was very likely that my lords would not react well to my allowing my consort to rule in my stead. Unless I was prepared to take on the responsibilities involved, Cornwall could descend into civil war._

_His declaration surprised me. I’ve known, intellectually, that I am the Princess of Cornwall, despite my age. I suppose I’d never really_ thought _about what it meant. I_ am _the ruler of Cornwall, even if I’m not yet at an age where I am able to govern myself. Ruling a country, and ruling it well, keeping it safe from the aggression of others will definitely require more than what I am learning from Howland, even if what he has taught is a good beginning._

_I looked to Aglovale and asked him what he proposed for this situation I was in. He appeared pleased with my answer. He proposed that I spend several hours with him each day, learning how he managed his lands and people. He would go about his duties, and I would watch and observe, taking notes where I had questions, and later in private, I would ask those questions and he would answer them. We would then adjust our situation as needed from then on when needed._

_Howland said that men do not like stupid women. Well, I’d be a stupid woman indeed to turn down such an offer._

  


The letters were sent out the following morning, each of the three messengers setting out with a single companion. They would travel more quickly and easily without a large escort. It was the last Arthur thought about it for the next week.

In an odd trick of fate, Elyan, Leon, and Samuel all returned on the same day, and all bearing responses. Arthur read them alone in his chambers, which were rather cluttered – Edgar’s skills as a manservant still left something to be desired, even with Merlin tutoring him on how to handle himself. 

Phrases cluttered Arthur’s mind as he read the replies, all warring for dominance. 

_… compliment you on having the gumption to ask for help. Certainly your father would have rather seen his people starve than ask someone, even his allies, for assistance…_

_… crops have been good these past few years, so there’s plenty for us to spare. Elena sends you her greetings and hopes you are well…_

_… was pleased to hear of your marriage…_

Annis was as blunt as ever. In the letters Arthur had been exchanging with her since the disastrous business with her late husband, she had never bothered with things like delicacy or diplomacy. She never hesitated to point out any flaws she saw, whether it was in him or in his father. It was something Arthur had slowly come to appreciate, since so few people were wholly honest with him.

Godwyn was as pleasant as ever, and he was glad that Elena was well too. 

That Olaf was happy to hear of Arthur’s marriage was something of a relief. Whatever enchantment had been placed on both him and Vivian had lasted longer with the lady than it had with Arthur, but it had, thankfully, faded. If it hadn’t, Arthur was fairly certain that his father wouldn’t have hesitated to point out to Olaf that magic had clearly been involved in Arthur and Vivian’s intemperate behavior and that Alined had been distinctly displeased by the treaty. Olaf would have almost certainly declared war, treaty or not.

Still, what relieved Arthur the most was that all three contained one similar piece of information – they’d all agreed to his proposed exchange. Camelot would have food in exchange for gold and metals. That was definitely a cause for celebration.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when there was an urgent knock on his door. Arthur looked up. “Come,” he called.

The door opened hurriedly, revealing one of the page boys. The child bowed hurriedly and piped out in a high-pitched tone, “Sire, a large party of armed men has been spotted on the road. They’re not a mile from Camelot.” He said it all in such a hurry that Arthur had to pause a moment to let the entire message think in. He stood up quickly and grabbed his sword before striding out of the room. 

Arthur jogged toward the battlements overlooking the road. Leon and Percival were already there, the former staring out through the lens of the spyglass in his hands. Arthur followed their gaze. Just as the boy said, there was a party approaching Camelot. He couldn’t make out the identification of their banners, but he could see that they were clad in deep blue and grey, a color combination he was unfamiliar with. “What do you see, Leon?” Arthur demanded.

“There are a dozen armed knights, Sire,” Leon reported. “They’re protecting two covered wagons. I cannot see what they might be transporting.”

“Their colors?”

Leon didn’t respond immediately, but Arthur could see the furrow deepening on the other man’s brow. “It’s… something blue… a fish of some kind? Yes, a fish with a golden cliff behind it and…” Leon lowered the spyglass, his eyes huge with surprise. He stared at Arthur. “Cornwall, Sire. They’re knights of Cornwall.”

Arthur’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly took the spyglass and held it up, training it on the party that was steadily coming closer. Yes, just as Leon had said, a blue fish and a golden cliff, with an embroidered ‘C’ woven into the image. 

Cornwall.

  


_**Brieland** _

_Brieland is very different from Solstone. It isn’t just a castle, a manor house for the family to reside in, but a castle with a town around it, full to the brim of people who live under Aglovale’s protection and rule. The castle doesn’t just house Aglovale’s family and servants, but also a contingent of knights, infantry, and other members of his military._

_There is also much more ceremony at Brieland. When a distinguished visitor comes, the entire family is expected to greet him, much as the family greeted Vivienne and me. Just today, two men came to visit my uncle, a Lord Aurelius and his brother, Lord Uther. Both men were tall, taller than most of the others in the Great Hall. Apparently, my uncle is acquainted with these men, for he greeted them with great ceremony and affection. The rest of the family also seems to have met them in the past, because Aglovale only bothered to formally introduce them to my sister and me, passing over his daughter and sons. Both Aurelius and Uther were polite, bowing to us._

_When the two lords and my uncle left us, Ygrisa dismissed the rest of us to return to our lessons. As I accompanied Vivienne and Ygraine back to our schoolroom, where Howland waited to inflict more lessons on us, Vivienne lost no time in asking Ygraine about the visiting lords._

_“They’re_ Romans,” _were the first words out of Ygraine’s mouth, and she sounded incredibly awed by the statement. Apparently, the two men were the sons of a Lord Constantine, one of the last generals sent by the Romans to keep peace in Britain (that is the name the Romans give Albion – I much prefer our own), though he did not long command the legions before they were called back to Rome. He made do with what he had, though, and was able to call together the various kingdoms to stand united against the invading Saxons. Eventually, though, Lord Constantine and his eldest son, Constans, were murdered under mysterious circumstances (some say by Saxon assassins, others by jealous allies), and his younger sons, Aurelius and Uther, would have suffered the same fate were it not for a few faithful servants. They spirited the two boys away into the north, taking them to the care of King Cador, of the house of Tregor. They’ve since grown up of course, and now both men are seeking to reclaim that which was their father’s by right._

_Addendum : I met with Aglovale after supper this evening for one of his lessons. I was surprised to be summoned to him, since I’d thought that he would be busy entertaining and speaking with his guests, but apparently my uncle trusted his wife to amuse them while he spoke with me. _

_“Lord Aurelius is looking for a wife,” he told me just as I was sitting down with him. He didn’t try to break such news gently, just blurted it out._

_I froze. A_ wife?! _I was thirteen years old, and had only begun to experience my moon’s blood just before I came to live with him and his family. Vivienne hasn’t even begun hers yet! Lord Aurelius was twenty-five, at the very least! I know that such things are normal for women of my station, to be married off at an early age, but still, to have the subject even broached was shocking._

_Fortunately, Aglovale put me out of my misery. He told me that Aurelius was planning on asking King Cador for the hand of one of his daughters, Alyx or Catrina, who were nineteen and seventeen. He had no desire to bed a child bride, whatever her dowry._

_“Still,” he said, “you were obviously surprised by such news, and it showed on your face, my dear.” He told me that as a ruler, I must, above all, control my emotions and not let them spread across my face for everyone to see. Discerning people will see them, and use them against me if they can. Not all of my enemies will be stupid fools, after all._

_He is right, of course. I know that, but the marriage idea is a strange one that still lingers. I will have to marry one day, as will Vivienne. We will have to marry for the good of Cornwall, myself especially. If that involves marrying a man old enough to be my own sire and bear his children, then I will have to do so. My fate is no different than that of any other noble girl, even if I am the princess of my own country. If such a marriage will benefit Cornwall, then I must do it, and do it with a smile on my face._

  


Arthur ordered a contingent of guards and knights to meet the approaching company, to ascertain their purpose for coming to Camelot, and to make sure that there were no soldiers within the wagons seeking to slip into the citadel and take it by surprise. Painful experience had taught Arthur to be cautious.

In the meantime, Arthur had called for the court to assemble. There was no time to make use of the throne room, which he would have preferred to use under such circumstances. For longer than Arthur had been alive, Cornwall had been closed to Camelot, exchanging no ambassadors, no treaties, nothing. It was a land Arthur knew little about, and in fact only recognized the standard because of the diligent study his father had insisted he make as a boy of all the kingdoms and their marks. 

Why were they here, he wondered. Cornwall had been silent for decades, why change that now? Hopefully, he’d soon find out.

Percival and Leon led the head of the delegation into the chamber, approaching Arthur on his throne at a quick pace. Gwen sat silently beside him, her own chair having only recently been brought out of storage. Merlin stood just behind his right shoulder, which had become his accustomed place the past several weeks. 

Leon and Percival joined the ranks of their fellow knights, leaving the delegation’s head to face Arthur alone. He examined the man. He was tall and dark-haired, with deep green eyes. His tunic was dust-covered, as one would expect from someone who had been traveling, but he still cut an impressive figure.

The knight came to a halt in front of him and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice deep, but pleasant, “I am Sir Bedwyr, knight of Cornwall. I come with the good wishes of Cornwall, and a message from our Lady-Regent.”

“Indeed, Sir Bedwyr?” Arthur replied. “This is very much a surprise. Camelot has not had business with Cornwall in many years, though we welcome you most heartily. What message does your lady have for us?”

The knight bowed again and held up a folded parchment. Arthur could see the lump of wax used to close it, but could not make out the details of the seal. Merlin stepped forward, his hand out, and Bedwyr gave him the parchment. Merlin then stepped back and handed the parchment over to Arthur. Looking down at the document, Arthur carefully slid his finger under one of the loose ends and slid it toward the wax. Working at it carefully, the wax came loose, allowing him to unfold the parchment. Once it was fully opened, Arthur began to read the message, which was written in an elegant, feminine hand.

 

_To Arthur, son of Uther and Ygraine, King of Camelot, the Lady-Regent of Cornwall offers her country’s greetings._

_It being many years since our two kingdoms have engaged in commerce and communication and having heard lately of Camelot’s troubles at the hands of the renegade warlord, Helios, and the traitor, Morgana, we of Cornwall felt it time to put aside past grudges and hurts in the name of cooperation and friendship._

_It has also come to our attention that Camelot is in need of certain foodstuffs and supplies to help overcome the troubles recently visited upon you. The harvests of Cornwall have been bountiful these past several summers, and thus it is in our power to gift supplies to you in token of our hope to renew the ties between our two kingdoms._

_The leader of our embassy, Sir Bedwyr, has been empowered by us to begin these negotiations with you. It is Cornwall’s hope that this can be a new beginning between us._

_As a further token of our esteem, we wish to formally invite you and a party of your choice to visit us in Tintagel, the center of government and commerce in Cornwall. All formality and rules of hospitality are hereby invoked and will be adhered to._

_Yours in friendship and sincerity,  
The Lady-Regent of Cornwall_

_Well_ , Arthur thought, that _was unexpected_.

  


_**Brieland** _

_All of Brieland has been turned upside down for the preparations for Ygraine and Tristan’s fifteenth birthday celebration. Nearly everything was scrubbed down, the Great Hall was decorated, and the kitchens had the most delicious aromas wafting from it. Unfortunately, no one could get in to get an early taste of the feast, because every time someone tried, Cook chased them out, swearing loudly and cracking knuckles with one of her many ladles. I suspect Cook wouldn’t have hesitated to do that even to my uncle, she has been so protective of her culinary creations!_

_The feast finally came last night. The Great Hall was full of people, as many of my uncle’s retainers and adherents came to join the celebration. Even Aurelius and Uther Pendragon came, taking time out from their constant efforts to reclaim their birthright._

_There was an entire table devoted to the gifts that had been brought for Ygraine and Tristan, nearly groaning under the weight of them all. Ygraine received a number of pretty fabrics for her to have dresses made out of, many jewelry pieces, and, of course, several mirrors. Clearly, everyone expects her to be in need of all of them. Is Ygraine somehow gaining a reputation for vanity? Meanwhile, Tristan was given a series of weapons - daggers, throwing stars, crossbows, and even a few swords. He was quite pleased, since he, like all boys from what I can tell, is mad about weaponry. I don’t think I shall ever understand it._

_Perhaps the most popular gifts that the twins received, though, were those from Aurelius and Uther. I admit, I was surprised that they could afford such things, given that they are almost always short on coin due to devoting every resource they have into raising troops. Nonetheless, Ygraine dearly loved the spyglass that Uther presented to her, and Tristan was thrilled with the suit of armor that Aurelius gave to him, which had been designed and decorated specifically for him. I think they loved them even more than the personal seals that uncle gave them, to signify that they have reached adulthood._

_The feast lasted for hours, and it wasn’t until dawn was approaching that we all finally retired to our beds. Even then, though, we did not get much sleep and were up again within hours. Ygraine was far too excited to sleep overly long, and eager to experiment with her gift from Uther. She actually came into my chamber and then Vivienne’s, calling loudly for us to get up and not be lazing about. I didn’t bother arguing with her, but I think Vivienne flung a few of her pillows at her before giving in to the inevitable._

_Ygraine dragged us up to the battlements, the beautifully crafted spyglass held carefully in her arms. We chose a spot overlooking the gardens and then the town beyond the citadel’s walls. As she put the spyglass up to her eye and began to look out over our surroundings, I looked down into the gardens. Those gardens were my aunt’s pride and joy, something she had designed herself in the early years of her marriage._

_It being well into spring, the gardens were rife with bursts of color - red, yellow, white, blue, and a host of others. I was so lost in the colors that it took several moments for me to notice that the gardens were not deserted._

_I recognized Uther easily enough. Even from where we stood, he was distinctive. I did not, however, recognize his companion. It was a woman, clad in dark colors much as he was. She even wore_ trousers, _I noticed. What was caught my attention the most, however, was her fiery red hair. From the battlements, her hair looked almost like dull flames._

_Ygraine startled me when she appeared at my side, asking who the woman was. Apparently, she had noticed me observing them. Vivienne, who can always be counted upon to know these things, told us that she was Nimueh, a sorceress who had pledged her support to Uther and his brother. I was impressed. The brothers were wise to court the aid of sorcerers, since Camelot was rife with magic under its current ruler, Vortigern, the usurper who had murdered Uther and Aurelius’ father and older brother. I idly wondered if she was the only one they had, or if there were others._

_Vivienne didn’t stop there, however. It seems that she overheard two maids talking, and they said that not only had Nimueh been spotted entering Uther’s chambers in the dead of night, but that he supposedly wanted to marry her! I started to scold Vivienne for listening to gossip (even though I was hardly any better for listening to her myself), but then my eyes fell on Ygraine. She was pale, paler than I had ever seen her, and her hands were shaking so badly that I thought she might drop the beloved spyglass, which she still held. Before I could think of anything else, I took the spyglass from her, and then asked her what was wrong._

_My taking the spyglass seemed to have caught her attention, and Ygraine tried to smile and deny that it was nothing, but I know my cousin. She’s such a bright, sunny young woman and few things can make her behave any differently. I interrupted her denials and told her not to bother trying to lie to me. She tried to stare me down, but I confess that I have observed my uncle’s method of doing so far more closely than she has, and Ygraine is no match for me. Finally, after several moments, she confessed that she liked Uther and thought he might like her. She’d hoped that she might be able to convince her father to ally the de Bois with the Pendragons with a marriage between her and Uther, who, despite being the younger, is clearly the better warrior of the two brothers. If Uther is bedding Nimueh and even intending to marry her, though, then there’s no hope for it._

_I admit, I was shocked by my cousin’s confession. I’d had no idea before this that she was interested in the younger of the Pendragon brothers. Granted, I suppose he is handsome enough, chivalrous in the presence of women, but I had not thought to look at him as a potential husband. That was clearly a mistake on my part, one my uncle would be disappointed to know that I had made. He has taught me much over the years, and one of the chief lessons is that I must always be aware of every resource I have at my disposal. My hand in marriage is one of my best resources, and I should consider all of my options. Uther Pendragon, in fact, would be a good potential husband for me. As the younger brother, he would not rule Camelot should he and Aurelius conquer it. That would leave him free to stand beside me as my consort, as the commander of my knights and soldiers. I should have been aware of that, and yet I was not._

_Clearly I still have much to learn._

_Nonetheless, the fact remained was that Ygraine was obviously upset by this revelation that Uther wished to marry his sorceress. I was at a loss as to how to comfort her. What_ could _I say, really?_

_In the end, though, I did not get the chance to make a fool of myself. Vivienne had been quiet for some time, but now she spoke, and she did not sound at all like my sister. In a cold, distant voice, she said, “Nothing lasts forever. As much love as there is now, there will be hate in equal measure.” Ygraine and I both turned to stare at her and I think my cousin saw the same thing I did._

_Vivienne’s eyes were glazed over, covered in a deep golden sheen – a sure sign of a vision. I have never seen her seer talents behave so. Normally, her visions visit her in her dreams, but this? A waking vision is much, much rarer, and therefore more likely to have a large grain of truth in it. I hesitate to think on it too much, lest I start trying to predict everything through my sister’s words._

  


Because the arrival of Cornwall’s embassy was so unexpected, there was a mad scramble to provide the proper entertainment and hospitality that was due them as the representative of a potential ally. Fortunately, Arthur thought, Gwen had a thorough knowledge of the citadel’s supplies and staff. As a result, within hours of Sir Bedwyr and his party’s arrival, guest chambers had been aired and scrubbed clean and the kitchen staff was galvanized into action to provide a fine meal meant to impress.

Thankfully, the feast didn’t go on well into the night, as often the case when entertaining foreign embassies. Bedwyr and his cohorts were tired from their journey, and thus were quite happy to eat their fill, enjoy the entertainment Gwen had organized, and then retire to their chambers for the night. As they did so, Arthur drew Leon to the side and surreptitiously ordered that guards be posted in the vicinity of their guests’ chambers. It might seem paranoid, but Arthur had seen far too many visitors in Camelot turn out to be assassins or spies to not take precautions.

That done, Arthur joined the others in the council chamber. Even Geoffrey, who had only recently risen from his sickbed, made an appearance. He was the one Arthur spoke to first. “What can you tell me of Cornwall?” he asked.

The old archivist looked uncomfortable. “Unfortunately, not very much, Sire,” he replied. “Camelot was once allied with Cornwall, in the early days of your father’s reign, but they broke off relations with us… some decades before.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, noting the man’s slight hesitation. “How many decades, Geoffrey?”

Again, the older man appeared ill at ease. “Roughly twenty-six years ago, Your Majesty. When the Great Purge began. To my knowledge, Cornwall has always welcomed the presence of magic, and might very well have condemned your late father’s policies.”

Twenty-six years ago. Not for the first time, Arthur was reminded that his birth and the beginning of the purges had coincided. Well, his birth _and_ his mother’s death. His father had claimed that magic was responsible for her death, and the shade of his mother had claimed that magic had been used to facilitate his conception. Merlin and his father both had pointed out that Morgause had had every reason to lie and manipulate such a vision, and her subsequent actions certainly bore that out. Still, the situation made something inside of him twitch. There was a fundamental truth in all of the deception.

Shaking his head, Arthur cleared his thoughts and refocused on the subject at hand. “The Lady-Regent has invited me to visit her in Cornwall’s capital, Tintagel.”

“What does that mean?” Gwaine cut in. “Never heard of a ‘lady-regent’ before.”

It was Geoffrey who responded, now looking pleased to have a succinct answer on hand. “Cornwall has always been ruled by a prince, never feeling the need to take on the title of king. If the rightful prince is not of age to rule himself, then a regent is appointed to rule in his stead.” He looked thoughtful. “If a lady rules as regent, it’s quite possible that she is the current prince’s mother.”

“She must be a formidable lady,” Gwen murmured from beside Arthur. “Few women would have the resources to take on such responsibility.”

Arthur nodded, agreeing. Education was spotty even amongst the nobility. Nobles usually made sure that their sons had enough education to succeed them or to begin their own path, in the case of younger sons, but their daughters rarely received even that much consideration. Often they were taught the basics of household management and that was it. It had been a point of pride for his father that he had seen both his heir _and_ his ward both extensively educated, well beyond what was customary. Gwen herself had learned much of what she knew from being present during Morgana’s lessons.

Leon brought their attention back to the subject at hand. “Sire,” he said hesitantly, “are you certain now is a good time for you to be traveling out of the kingdom? Though Helios is deceased and his army either dead, captured, or scattered, the Lady Morgana is still at large and we still have no leads on her whereabouts.”

That was a good point. Arthur did hesitate to leave Camelot when it was still under threat from Morgana. She had lost her military backing and her spy, so the threat was much reduced, but Morgana was nothing if not resourceful. What if she should try something, make another deadly bid for the throne, while he was away visiting Cornwall?

On the other hand, Arthur couldn’t spend the rest of his days arranging his life around Morgana. He said as much to the others, adding, “I refuse to allow her to control me or Camelot in such a way. We must certainly make provisions for while I’m away, but I won’t let fear of what Morgana _might_ do keep me from living my life.” Not to mention, he wasn’t certain he wanted to insult a woman who had sent him and his kingdom sorely-needed supplies out of the seeming goodness of her heart.

It was perhaps a haphazard way of announcing his decision to take the offer of a visit, but no one said anything about it. Taking a deep breath, Arthur thought quickly. “Merlin, you’ll be coming with me,” he said, “as will Leon, Gwaine, Sir Cador, and Sir Samuel. The rest of you,” he nodded toward Elyan, Percival, Geoffrey, and Gaius, “will remain here and assist Gwen.” When Arthur turned toward his wife, he met her wide, dark eyes with his own. “Gwen, I will be leaving you in charge of Camelot,” he told her, his voice softening. “Everyone will report to you, and you will wield my authority here.”

Arthur took a quick glance around the table. Merlin was beaming. Whether it was because Arthur had ordered him along on this trip or because he had made the unprecedented decision of leaving the Queen as the kingdom’s regent, he didn’t know. Arthur was coming to realize that he seldom really knew what was going on in his former manservant’s head. Gaius was as inscrutable as ever, while Geoffrey was eyeing Gwen warily. Arthur sincerely hoped there would not be any issues on the historian’s part. He valued the old man’s expertise, but he wasn’t going to let old-fashioned notions of ‘a woman’s place’ hinder him. He had every confidence that Gwen could do what he was asking her to do.

He turned then to Elyan and Percival. “I trust you two with command of the knights until I return. Sir Bors and Sir Hadrian will be of use there.” 

The two knights glanced at one another briefly, and then nodded. “Yes, Sire,” Elyan murmured. 

Arthur eyed his brother-in-law briefly. He had been rather closed off and solemn in the weeks since Camelot had been retaken. Gaius and Gwaine had told him of what Morgana had done to him, using some cursed snake creature to torture Arthur’s destination out of him after he and Merlin had fled. Arthur hoped that by leaving him as a source of support to his sister’s regency and a co-command of the knights, he would restore some of the other man’s confidence. If that turned out to be too much, then he trusted Percival to keep the situation under the control.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Sir Bedwyr’s delegation was only planning on staying for a short time, four days. He stated that a permanent ambassador might be forthcoming from Cornwall if we were interested in pursuing an alliance with them, but that I could discuss the details with his lady if I should come to meet her in Tintagel. We’ll depart with them.”

  


_**Solstone** _

_Horrible news. Lord Aurelius has been killed, murdered. The messenger apparently rode non-stop to Solstone, and was greatly weakened by his long journey. His horse was nearly dead when they arrived. It took some time to get the entire story out of him, and was done as Aunt Ygrisa fussed over and fed him a broth brought from the kitchens._

_Aurelius and Uther’s efforts to raise an army have borne fruit over the past year. They have sorcerers in their ranks, led by the sorceress Nimueh, as well as extensive cavalry and infantry, some of which my uncle provided from his own forces. They have even managed to obtain coin enough to pay them, thanks to their ties with the Houses of Tregor and de Bois._

_According to the messenger, Aurelius had taken a small party away from the main body, intent on hunting game along the border of Camelot. They were in the forest, on the trail of a wild boar, when they were set upon by a large group of disguised, armed men. Despite the ambush, Aurelius and his men fought valiantly, killing many of the enemy, but Aurelius suffered a mortal wound in killing the ringleader. Help was sent for, but he died before Uther’s physician-friend, Gaius, could get to him. The survivors of Aurelius’ men were able to interrogate the surviving attackers, and obtained the name of the one who sent them – Vortigern. Yet another Pendragon corpse can be laid at that man’s feet. Only Uther lives now. According to the messenger, Uther is preparing to march on Camelot not just to reclaim what is his by right, but also to avenge his family’s assassinations._

_My uncle has offered the assistance of the rest of his own soldiers and knights, and is even preparing to ride with Uther as a full-fledged ally. Agravaine will accompany him, since my uncle thinks that, as his heir, Agravaine needs battle experience. Tristan, much to his fury, will remain behind. Aglovale isn’t so foolish as to risk_ both _of his sons on a risky venture such as this. They leave for Brieland at dawn tomorrow, while the rest of us will follow in a few days._

_I asked my uncle why he was willing to side with Uther. Despite the support that the other man has accumulated, it will still be no easy victory over Vortigern, who is firmly entrenched and Camelot and whose army still outnumbers Uthers at least two to one. Aglovale didn’t answer me at first, but then finally told me that the future rests in men like Uther, men who seek to bind together the various people of Albion. Uther will stand against barbarians like the Saxons, not give in to them as Vortigern has a history of doing. My uncle thinks that it is in Uther that they have found a man who will help beat the Saxons back, and as such he won’t abandon him._

_“It is far better to be the friend of such a man, than an enemy,” he said._

  


Four days was hardly the proper amount of time to mount a diplomatic expedition to a foreign kingdom, but Arthur did his best to make it work. He set Edgar to packing his finest raiment, something appropriate for him to meet the ruler of another kingdom in, as well as everything else he’d possibly need for a trip that could last for at least a fortnight. Arthur wasn’t going to take the young servant with him on this trip, not when he was still so new to his post and knew even less about defending himself than Merlin did. Merlin could help him when needed.

Combining the preparations for the journey with entertaining the Cornwall delegation, things were certainly chaotic. Bedwyr noticed the frantic atmosphere and guessed the cause. Over supper the night before they were scheduled to leave, he offered an apologetic smile. “Forgive me for forcing you to rush, Your Majesty. We would stay longer in your fair city, but our presence is required at home. The Lady is hosting a tournament, and prefers to have as much security as possible.”

Arthur sipped from his goblet, nodding. “It is no trouble, Sir Bedwyr.” He thought about making a joke about being used to departing Camelot under far more abrupt and dangerous circumstances, but dismissed it as being in poor taste. Not to mention, he hardly wished to remind a foreign envoy of just how tenuous his hold on Camelot could be.

Instead, he changed the subject, saying, “Tell me of Tintagel. Is it like Camelot?”

Bedwyr shook his head. “Oh, no, not at all. Tintagel resides close to the sea, and much of it is built around that reality.”

Arthur nodded. A seaside port suggested a sea-oriented economy. Fishing, whaling, and other such things would likely be a large staple.

“Tintagel is actually quite new, in comparison to many of the structures of Cornwall,” the knight continued, taking note of not just Arthur’s curiosity, but Gwen’s also. She had been silent for some time, focusing on her food, but now was listening to Bedwyr closely. “It was first built as a line of defense over the harbor during the time of the Roman occupation, to prevent them from invading by sea. Our princes spent much time there, manning the defenses personally, and when the Romans finally backed away to leave us be, they just never bothered to remove the center of government away. Slowly, it became more than a fort, converting slowly into a city around the castle. All that really remains of the early structure is the small fortress on the island that is connected to the mainland by a bridge.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. In all honesty, it sounded fascinating. He had only rarely traveled outside of Camelot – usually under secret and dire circumstances – and his one view of the sea had been had been during the attempt to resolve the unicorn incident years ago. He’d hardly been in any position to enjoy the view of the sea then. Perhaps he would be able to do so now, in Tintagel.

He continued listening to Sir Bedwyr’s descriptions of Cornwall, which were glowing. While Arthur knew that it was very likely that everything the knight was saying had been preapproved by his lady – whose name he still did not know, strangely enough – he didn’t doubt that Cornwall was a prosperous country. Such an ally would be a boon for Camelot.

After the three of them finished their meal, Sir Bedwyr asked leave to retire, stating that he wished to check on his fellows before settling in for a good night’s sleep before they set off in the morning. Arthur waved him off, which left him and Gwen to leave for their own chambers.

As they settled into bed some time later, Gwen rested her head on his chest, and he draped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. “I almost wish I could go with you,” she said, her tone wistful.

He squeezed her. “I would love to have you with me,” he agreed, “but one of us has to be here to provide a face of confidence to the people. And it will give you experience in keeping the kingdom running when I am unable to do so.” He didn’t add that such other instances when Gwen would be in charge would involve him leading their troops into battle against Camelot’s enemies. Better for her to learn her duties in a relatively peaceful situation than when the kingdom was engulfed in the chaos of war. 

She nodded, idly running her fingers over his bare chest. “I’ll do my best,” she said quietly, “but…” She trailed off.

“But?” he prompted, looking down at her dark curls.

“I wasn’t born for this, Arthur.” The words seem to almost burst out of her, perhaps more forcefully than she’d intended, because she flinched just a little after she spoke them. “I… I don’t…”

“You know how to do this, Guinevere,” he assured her. “You’ve been doing it. You have an unparalleled understanding of how the citadel and the city work. Plus, Camelot has been running itself for so long, it only requires general oversight in most areas. If you don’t understand something, you will have several on the council who will be glad to help. Geoffrey knows more about the running of the kingdom than anyone alive, even me,” he added with a soft snort of amusement.

She looked up at him intently for several moments. Then, slowly, she smiled. “Thank you. You’ve become quite good at reassuring me.”

Arthur laughed. “I suppose Merlin has been good for something over the years. He’s learned to be reassuring during the worst moments of doubt.” Goodness knows he had pulled Arthur from the dark well of uncertainty and self-pity. 

They talked for at least another hour on a variety of subjects, some useful and some not. Arthur knew he would pay for it in the morning, but didn’t regret it at all.

  


_**Brieland** _

_Brieland is so strange lately, so empty. Most of the knights and soldiers have gone with my uncle and cousin, leaving only a small contingent behind to guard the de Bois holdings while they’re away. I suppose I must be grateful that there are still some of them here, though. If Tristan were the only male in Brieland, I think we women would have locked him up somewhere so we didn’t have to listen to him complain. With at least some of the knights here, he can be distracted by working out on the training field with them._

_Aunt Ygrisa is quite busy too. My uncle left her as regent of the de Bois holdings while he and Agravaine are away with Uther. She manages not just the household now, but also everything else beyond it. She even knighted a group of men who had finished their training, including Tristan._

_I admit, despite my previous complaints about Tristan above, I am a little proud of my cousin. He has grown to be quite handsome now, at seventeen. He looked very well dressed in the formal colors of the de Bois house._

_News arrives from the army in thin trickles, the occasional courier when such a man can be spared from running messages between commanders on the battlefield. The war is slowly going Uther’s way as they fight their way closer toward Camelot, where Vortigern has holed himself up. My uncle admitted in his letters that he is worried that Vortigern might adopt a scorched earth policy if they get too close. If he does so, then the people will lose even more than they already are because of this war, and even if Uther wins, he’ll be facing famine and homelessness amongst his new subjects._

_All of this makes me wonder about my own people. Before Aglovale left, he showed me the documents that involve the upkeep and management of Cornwall, so that I might work in his place in making sure all is in order with my kingdom. He felt I was ready for that responsibility, despite my not being quite at my majority —_

_Addendum : Agravaine has just arrived home, wounded. We had no word of his coming. Apparently my uncle felt it best to get him out of the path of the fighting as soon as possible._

_According to the short message sent with him, Agravaine was apparently part of a cavalry charge and in the midst of the battle, his horse was slain and fell in such a way that he fell under it. He suffered three broken ribs as well as a severely broken leg, one that the physicians just barely managed to save. There was some concern about sending him home, fearing the journey alone might kill him, but he made it. The wounds have also put an end to Agravaine’s military pretensions, to say the least. Perhaps for good, not just for the duration of this conquest._

_This fact has not settled well on my cousin. He has taken to snapping irritably at everyone, and was even abominably rude to Aunt Ygrisa when she tried to discuss estate matters with him. She did this despite being the official regent because, I think, she didn’t want him to feel completely useless at the moment. Perhaps she thought that giving him a voice in how the de Bois lands are run would restore his sense of purpose. Her efforts have been for nothing, though, because he just keeps snarling at her to leave him alone with her ‘infernal prattle’._

_She’s told Vivienne, Tristan, Ygraine, and me to leave him be, that he will come out of his black mood when he is ready. My aunt tried to keep a cheerful outlook, but I could see the hurt on her face. She has been Agravaine’s stepmother since he was barely three years old, and has always treated him the same as she would treat any of her own natural children. To have him behave toward her thus, even when he is sorely wounded, has hurt her._

_Part of me wants to scold him, to tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself, that there are many men in far worse shape than him due to this war, but I have held my tongue. Right now, saying something like that would only alienate him._

  


The entire court gathered in the early morning hours to see Arthur and those accompanying him off. Gwen led a small procession down the stairs from the main entrance of the citadel, surrounded by the council and followed by the knights who were remaining behind. Since he had already said his private farewells to her the night before, Arthur merely bowed his head ceremonially to her and the others, a gesture they returned.

Turning his attention to his party, he saw that the four knights accompanying him, Leon, Gwaine, Cador, and Samuel, were all standing beside their mounts, ready to go. Sir Bedwyr and the rest of the Cornwall delegation were also prepared. Only Merlin was missing.

 _What a surprise,_ Arthur thought, rolling his eyes inwardly. Then, as though the thought of him was a summons, Merlin appeared out of one of the side entrances of the citadel, two bags slung over his shoulders. Edgar was just behind him. As they approached, he heard Merlin listing off a set of instructions. “… dust the chambers every other day, make sure his spare armor and swords are polished, muck out the stables, and make yourself useful to the Queen.”

“Of course, sir,” Edgar said, his tone light and eager. Arthur struggled not to laugh. He’d wanted to raise Merlin’s stature, and seemed to be succeeding if Edgar’s behavior was any indication, but that didn’t stop him from finding the situation vastly amusing.

“Didn’t forget your petticoats, did you, Merlin?” Arthur asked in a low tone as his former manservant approached his own horse, which had been waiting patiently next to Arthur’s. “Or your favorite blanket?” he teased.

Merlin shot him a mock-sour look. “Oh, be quiet, dollophead. Don’t act like you wouldn’t throw a royal tantrum if I didn’t pack your favorite tunic and bedroll.” 

Arthur shrugged, and hoisted himself up onto his horse. Merlin and the others quickly followed suit, and formed up behind him as he maneuvered his mount toward the gates of the courtyard. Sir Bedwyr, as head of the delegation, rode up beside Arthur while Merlin allowed himself to fall back behind them. Technically, even with his promotion, Merlin should have still been at the back of the line, but the knights were well used to Merlin keeping close, and the Cornwall delegation had no other high ranking members to object.

They made good time once they were out of the city. “We’ll head south,” Arthur said as they entered the forest that surrounded much of Camelot. “If we can keep this pace, we should reach Lord Godwyn’s lands by tomorrow evening.” He had even sent word ahead to Godwyn, informing him of their attention to pass through his principality on their way to Cornwall and hoped to trespass on his hospitality.

Bedwyr nodded. “We did not pass through Corbenic on our way here, but skirted its borders. I have heard of Lord Godwyn – a good, honorable man and ruler.”

“Indeed he is,” Arthur agreed, “one of the best.” Lord Godwyn did indeed rule well, and kept the peace in Corbenic, which was no mean feat, considering he ruled strictly as a regent for his daughter. Elena’s mother, the Princess Lya, had been the ruler of Corbenic and Lord Godwyn her consort, but when she had died of plague, she had left a little girl as her replacement. Godwyn had taken the reins of government, and Arthur knew he’d hoped that a marriage between him and Elena would have provided Elena with a protector for when she took over the management of Corbenic, which would actually be in just a few months. Arthur had assured the older man in letters after his coronation that he would be a staunch ally to Elena, regardless of their lack of marital ties. Lord Godwyn had been quite understanding about his and Elena’s refusal to marry each other, far more so than Princess Mithian’s father had been more recently. 

They rode for much of the day, stopping intermittently to rest their horses and eat a light meal. Each time, Arthur found Merlin sitting off away from the rest of the party, thumbing through a pack of parchments he’d brought with him. When their group finally stopped for the night, Arthur sat down against the tree Merlin had deposited himself under, trusting Leon to set up a watch with the Cornwall guards.

“What are you doing, Merlin?” he asked, pulling out an apple from his pack and taking a bite of it. “You keep looking at those documents like they have the answers to every question ever asked.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “Copies of recent treaties,” he answered. “I brought them with me. A good reference if you decide to make one with Cornwall.”

“Ah,” was all Arthur could say. He glanced at Merlin and said, “Honestly, you’re such a bore these days, Merlin. I can’t believe you like this bureaucracy so much.”

“It’s interesting,” was Merlin’s vague reply.

“I’m sure it is, but you can dig into them tomorrow. Right now, my bedroll needs to be laid out, and supper needs made.” Arthur suppressed a grin, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

He wasn’t disappointed. Merlin’s head shot up. “What? I’m not your —”

“On this trip you are,” Arthur reminded him, smirking at the other man’s outraged expression. “If you ask nicely, the servants in the Cornwall delegation might let you use their cooking pots.”

As it turned out, the Cornwall servants had already cooked an entire meal for everyone, so Merlin was spared having to put together one of his attempts at soup. After everyone had eaten their fill, they broke into smaller groups to settle down for the night, aside from those who were taking the first watch. 

Merlin did indeed lay out Arthur’s bedroll, as well as his own right next to him. He also set up another, smaller fire to provide the two of them with some extra warmth against the night chill. The knights also laid out their bedrolls near the fire, though Cador and Gwaine soon excused themselves to take part in the first watch. Leon and Samuel would take part in the second watch in a few hours.

Arthur lay down, stretching out and groaning faintly at the pull of his muscles, sore from a long day’s ride. He closed his eyes wearily after making sure his sword was within easy reach, barely reacting when he heard Merlin topple to the ground to his left. “Goodnight, Merlin,” he murmured.

“G’night, A’thur,” came the muffled reply.

  


_**Brieland** _

_The war is over! My uncle has come home at last! I don’t know who reached him first when we all rushed to greet him, but he found himself being hugged by four different women and pounded on the shoulder by his younger son. Even Agravaine, who is now walking about with a cane, came out of his chambers to greet him._

_We had had messages from him in advance about the war finally ending in Uther’s victory, but now that Aglovale is home, he was able to tell us about what happened in further detail, which I am going to record here._

_Uther’s army fought their way into Camelot, and even into the very citadel. They found Vortigern with the last of his guards holed up in a small council chamber. My uncle, Uther, a friend of his, Sir Gorlois, and several other knights met them sword for sword. Uther himself fought Vortigern personally. He was even winning the battle when, much to everyone’s shock, Vortigern stepped back and used_ magic _on Uther, lifting him up by the throat and strangling him. None of Uther’s fellows could get to him, being held off by Vortigern’s men, but then, like an avenging goddess, Nimueh appeared in the chamber._

_My uncle thinks she might have very well killed Vortigern herself in that moment, Nimueh was so furious. Instead, though, she lifted his spell off of Uther and prevented Vortigern from using any further magic against him. Thus, Uther was able to fight the other man on equal terms before finally managing to kill him. Vortigern’s guards were also slain to a man, none of them surrendering even when their liege fell._

_In the aftermath, when they were all trying to catch their breath and assimilate the fact that_ they’d won, _Nimueh picked up Vortigern’s crown, which had fallen and rolled underneath a broken chair, and placed it on Uther’s head. Then she spoke, and it seemed to my uncle that her voice echoed out beyond the chamber, beyond the citadel, and into the city itself. “All hail Uther! All hail the king!” He said that she looked so thrilled, so proud, in that moment that she could have burst apart._

_My uncle did not say anything specific, but I know him well enough that I could make out that he was troubled by the subject of Nimueh. From what I have heard, the rumors concerning her and Uther have not abated. There are whispers about how Nimueh shared Uther’s tent throughout the campaign, that she shared his bedroll. They still talk about Uther having wanted to marry her._

_Nimueh is a sorceress, a powerful one, and I’m not certain a sorceress queen would be accepted in Camelot. Though no one knew of Vortigern’s magic until now, he had allowed magic to run rampant throughout the kingdom, and I think it has gained a negative reputation there, unlike in Cornwall where those magical and those not have learned to coexist peacefully. No, Camelot will not accept a sorceress for their queen, even if she had more than proven her loyalty to their new liberator-king._

_More to the point, Uther will need to shore up his alliances now that he is king. Though Nimueh is powerful, she wouldn’t bring him the support of any powerful families like his marriage to a daughter of noble blood would. It makes far more sense for Uther to make overtures to the noble families and other kingdoms, but on the other hand, it is hardly wise to upset or betray a powerful sorceress who literally placed the crown on his head._

  


The following day’s journey was much like the previous, and there were no unpleasant surprises, much to Arthur’s relief. Much had been done to bring any stragglers of Helios’ mercenaries to justice, or to at least run them out of the kingdom, so there were no attempts at ambushes or other such things. Arthur busied himself with conversing with Bedwyr, trying to learn as much as he could about Cornwall and its Lady-Regent, whose name, he finally learned, was Elaine. 

Their party reached Godwyn’s stronghold in the late afternoon, a bit earlier than Arthur had predicted. They had made good time on their journey.

As they rode across the bridge toward the citadel, Arthur looked ahead and was pleased to see Lord Godwyn standing there waiting, Princess Elena standing beside him and several of his knights and council arrayed behind them. 

Bedwyr once again rode beside Arthur as they approached, and followed just a step behind him after they dismounted. Arthur bowed to their hosts, saying, “Lord Godwyn, Princess Elena, we thank you for your generous hospitality in housing the delegations of Camelot and Cornwall.”

It was Princess Elena who stepped forward, as beautiful as Arthur remembered, and he caught the flicker of nervousness that crossed her features. She gave him a slight curtsey – without tripping, he noticed with an inward grin – and responded, “Your Majesty, you and your fellow travelers are indeed most welcome. We are honored to have you here.” She smiled, her expression brightening, and continued, “I was most pleased to hear of your recent marriage. I am looking forward to meeting Queen Guinevere in the near future.”

Arthur smiled at her. “I look forward to introducing her to you, Your Highness.” He turned then, saying, “Allow me to introduce the head of the Cornwall delegation, Sir Bedwyr.”

The knight stepped up beside him and bowed to Elena, more deeply than Arthur had. “Your Highness, I am honored to meet you.”

Elena nodded to him. “Sir Bedwyr.” She then offered to have them all escorted to the chambers that had been prepared for them. Bedwyr agreed, as did Arthur, eager for a chance to wipe some of the dust and grime from his body. Even just a single day on the road had left him feeling rather unpleasant, certainly not fit company for a lady. Before he was led away, however, he did quietly ask to speak with Lord Godwyn in private that evening.

The chambers that had been arranged for Arthur were large and spacious, probably the best in the castle. After a servant had left him and Merlin alone, Arthur crossed the room and stared out the window. Corbenic was a green land, seemingly untouched by the troubles Camelot had faced in recent months. Arthur hadn’t heard of them suffering raids at the hands of bandits or mercenaries, so it seemed that Helios had focused his raiding on Camelot, possibly at Morgana’s behest. It seemed her hatred was very focused – on the very land she considered to be her ‘birthright’, he thought bitterly. 

Scuffling behind him caught Arthur’s attention and he turned to see Merlin dumping their bags onto the bed. “Careful with those, Merlin,” Arthur scolded. “My clothes are wrinkled enough. You’ll just create more work for yourself if you make them even worse.”

Merlin just shrugged and started to pull Arthur’s clothing the bag, carefully laying them out and brushing them off. “What were you going to talk to Lord Godwyn about?” he asked as he worked. 

“About Cornwall, of course,” Arthur replied, walking over to a pitcher and bowl of water. After tossing off his cape and chainmail – Merlin appearing to assist with the latter – he dipped a waiting washcloth into the water and laved it with soap. As he began wiping the dust from his neck and face, he continued, “Cornwall is just across Corbenic’s southern border. Very likely Godwyn has regular contact with them. Any information he can give me about them would be quite helpful.” He finished with the washcloth, wrinkling his nose as he rinsed it out in the water, leaving it a murky brown. “Like why they’re initiating contact now, of all times,” he added in an undertone.

  


_**Brieland** _

_Well, this has been quite an evening. I confess, I’ve been suspecting it would come since Aglovale returned from the conquest of Camelot, and really, with my and Vivienne’s birthday celebrations just a week ago, it shouldn’t be at all surprising._

_I had been with my uncle in his study, going through the documents pertaining to Cornwall yet again, as sometimes the numbers I was receiving didn’t quite seem right to me, when my uncle called for my attention. When he had it, he, rather bluntly, inquired me about my marriage prospects. “Did your father ever discuss it with you?” he asked. “Or your sister’s, for that matter?”_

_I wanted to snort, however unseemly it would be. My father never discussed much of anything with me, even though I was his heir and looked to remain so when my mother bore him no more children after Vivienne and I were born. He hadn’t bothered with me except for those rare occasions Vivienne and I were actually called to be_ inspected _, like slabs of meat._

 _Instead I settled for just telling my uncle that no, he hadn’t. He nodded and was silent for a moment, and then offered me his firstborn son’s hand. He wanted me to marry_ Agravaine.

 _I almost gaped at him incredulously, horrified by the very thought, but then actually stopped to think about it. After a moment, I realized that my uncle was actually testing me, to see how I reacted to such an offer made completely off the cuff. I inhaled slowly, bringing my emotions under control and_ thought _about his offer._

_Agravaine is heir to a large holding, one that has spanned over two kingdoms, and has recently expanded into a third. When my uncle dies, all of that will belong to Agravaine. He will be a powerful man, and could be more powerful still if he is clever enough with his inheritance._

_And that is the problem. While I, as the first Princess of Cornwall in centuries, need a clever man as my consort, I also do not dare take a man who has too many resources that are exclusively his own. It would be all too easy for him to absorb Cornwall into his own holdings. Few men in such a position would be inclined to share a throne with a wife on equal terms, but would expect to rule in her name and leave her to be a consort and broodmare._

_So that would rule out most lords and princes and kings. And Agravaine, thank the gods. I know many noble women find themselves married to men they despise, but I don’t think I could stand that._

_My decision and my reasons for it firmly in mind, I looked my uncle in the eye and thanked him, but also respectfully declined his offer, since Agravaine, though quite capable, was not what I was seeking in a consort._

_For a moment, Aglovale said nothing and I thought briefly that I might have greatly offended him. I would hardly wish to do that, but I would stand by my decision. Thankfully, though, a smile soon broke out on his face and he said, “You’ve learned, niece. Well done. Gracious, polite, and yet giving away virtually nothing.” He then offered me Tristan instead._

_I stopped to consider that as well. Tristan is a second son, and as such, will only inherit a small portion, mainly the bit of land that Aunt Ygrisa brought to her marriage to my uncle. Other than that, he is left to make his own way in the world. He has his knighthood, which is something he earned himself, and speaks well of his determination._

_On a personal front, I actually like Tristan. He is essentially goodhearted, though he can be a bit arrogant and has a hot temper. More importantly, he adores Ygraine, which spoke well of him on family matters. He isn’t someone who seems like the type to raise a hand against women._

_I could do infinitely worse, and so I consented to the match._

  


The feast that Elena and Godwyn hosted was an excellent one, and Arthur enjoyed the entertainment. Perhaps what surprised him the most was the fact that Elena took so quickly to Merlin, chatting with him eagerly. Well, it wasn’t a surprise that Elena warmed up to him, because Arthur had seen that happen numerous times over the years. What surprised him was that it didn’t seem to be a new development. How did they even know each other? Merlin had been present when Arthur had tried to court Elena, but as far as he knew, they’d never interacted directly. Before he could think of a way to ask how they had become so well-acquainted, however, Arthur found himself deep in discussion with Bedwyr and Godwyn about Alined’s increasing aggression against Olaf. 

By the time the feast came to a halt, Arthur was exhausted and longed for sleep, but determinedly refused to give in to the impulse. As Elena stood to signal the end of the feast, Arthur cast a glance in Godwyn’s direction. The older man inclined his head amicably to him and leaned toward his daughter, murmuring something in her ear. Elena’s inquisitive eyes darted between her father and Arthur, but she nodded easily enough and turned her attention to Bedwyr. She left the hall on the knight’s arm, drawing him into conversation.

As everyone else began to depart, Godwyn led Arthur – and Merlin, who had conveniently appeared at Arthur’s right shoulder – out of the hall and through the corridors. They finally came to a stop at an unexceptional oak door. Godwyn pushed it open, and Arthur found himself walking into a well-apportioned study. 

The large desk in the center of the room was covered in a chaotic pile of parchment, quills, and a pair of matching vases that were full of blue and white flowers. Arthur stared at the plants and cast a questioning look at Godwyn, who just shrugged and smiled, “This is Elena’s study, Your Majesty. She decorates it as she sees fit. She’ll be joining us shortly.”

“Of course,” Arthur replied, and then found himself glancing around the room again. On second glance, he could see that the room was definitely Elena’s. The untidy mess on the desk marked it as hers, since he knew Godwyn to be far more organized, but the different objects scattered throughout the room also identified their owner. It appeared that the princess of Corbenic had not lost her great love of horses and anything that had to do with the animals.

True to Godwyn’s words, Elena did shortly thereafter join them. She swept into the room at a rapid pace, only to stop in her tracks when Arthur and Merlin bowed to her. Elena blushed under such regard and shook her hand at them, saying, “Oh please, don’t!” She wrinkled her nose. “I get that far too much all day to want to see it from my friends.”

Godwyn chuckled and shook his head, and Arthur couldn’t help but grin a bit himself. Elena’s free spirit had impressed him when she had come to Camelot, even if he wasn’t in love with her, and he was glad to see that time and her own growing authority in her realm hadn’t changed that.

She crossed the room and seated herself behind the desk, waving her hand again in a gesture for them to sit. Thankfully, there were three chairs already present, and neither Elena nor Godwyn felt any outrage over Merlin, whom they both knew had once been Arthur’s manservant, sitting down in their presence. Arthur had had to deal with more than one outraged noble with an overinflated sense of his own importance since he had begun promoting Merlin’s status.

“Well, Your Majesty,” Godwyn spoke, breaking the comfortable silence, “what is it that my daughter and I can assist you with?”

Arthur straightened in his seat. “It’s Arthur, please,” he corrected with a small smile. Godwyn had been a loyal friend of his father, and a man he had always respected deeply. There was no need for formalities. He continued then, saying, “I was hoping to ask you about Cornwall. Camelot has few records on the kingdom or its ruling family, and my father’s own papers were empty of anything useful as well. You share a border with them.”

He watched them, gauging their reactions. Elena appeared both curious and thoughtful, and leaned back, slumping in her chair in a characteristic posture. Godwyn, however, was different. He seemed thoughtful, like his daughter, but there was something else, something uncomfortable, perhaps even evasive. Arthur focused his attention on the older man, prepared to pry, but it was Elena who spoke up first.

“We share a border, it’s true, but our contact with them isn’t all that extensive. We’ve had a trade agreement with them for the past… decade, I think,” she paused to glance at her father for confirmation. At his affirming nod, Elena kept going. “We trade mainly wool for fish and salt, and most of the exchanges take place at the border at pre-arranged times.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “So, you know nothing of the ruler herself, this Lady-Regent?”

Elena shook her head, but Godwyn spoke up. “I cannot tell you much, Arthur, but I will admit that there is more to it. I was just never given the details, as it really was none of my affair. I will tell you what I can, however. The Lady Elaine, the Lady-Regent, is the current ruler of Cornwall. She is the daughter of Cornwall’s princess, Vevay. She has served as her mother’s regent since the age of eighteen, when Princess Vevay suffered some kind of nervous collapse.” Godwyn gave him a small, wan smile. “Alined thought that having a young, untried woman for a regent meant that Cornwall would be weak and ripe for conquest, but he learned otherwise when the expedition he sent to take the kingdom was slaughtered. The heads of the commanders, one of which was one of his bastard sons, were sent back to him. No one has tried to bother them since then.”

Arthur’s eyebrows went up. He had never heard of anything like this happening, and his father had kept him abreast of events going on with the other kingdoms since he was fourteen. “When was this?” he inquired.

Godwyn paused, clearly thinking, and then replied, “About twelve years ago, now, I believe.”

So he would have been fourteen, right when his father had begun introducing him to the politics of the realm, Arthur thought. Why had his father not used such an incident as an example in his teachings? It would have been a prime example of not underestimating one’s opponent, as Alined had clearly underestimated the Lady Elaine and her countrymen.

Unaware of his thoughts and questions, Godwyn continued. “The Lady-Regent is a fine ruler, and Cornwall has flourished under her care. Anything else beyond that is for her ladyship to tell you.”

Arthur stared at the older man. There was clearly more going on than what was being said, Godwyn had all but said as much. Something was being held back, kept from him. Again.

Frustration welled up within him. He was growing heartily _sick_ of people hiding things from him, keeping a secret of things that he needed to know. His father, Morgana, Merlin, Gaius, all of them had done it, and now so was Godwyn. Arthur ground his teeth together, struggling against the urge to lash out under his aggravation. He was a king, after all, and kings didn’t throw temper tantrums, or at least, they _shouldn’t_. Apparently, no one had ever told his father or his sister that.

After several moments, he sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “Very well, my lord,” he said, struggling to keep his tone cordial. “Thank you for the information.”

The small gathering broke up then, leaving Arthur to stride back to his chambers, Merlin just a step behind. Once they entered the room, Arthur fairly ripped at the clasps that held his cape to his shoulders. He let it go, allowing it to fall toward the ground, only for Merlin’s hands to appear to catch the garment before it hit the floor.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s tone was full of concern.

A part of him longed to give voice to his irritations, to just let it flow out of his mouth. Arthur had had no problem letting Merlin listen to his ranting in the past. In this case, however, Merlin was actually part of the problem. Secrets hung about Merlin like the web of a spider. Arthur had always singularly ignored that web, shying away from asking the questions that he knew would change everything. He had come to question so much that had once been inviolate – his belief in his father, in Morgana, even his views on magic – and Merlin had been at the heart of most of that. If he started asking questions of Merlin now, if he tried to shed light on those secrets, then nothing would be the same again. It just wasn’t something Arthur could bring himself to face.

Not now, not yet. Maybe not ever.

No, he couldn’t share his thoughts with Merlin. Sighing, he just shook his head. “Give me my clothes, Merlin,” he ordered. “We should get some sleep. We’ll be setting out fairly early tomorrow.”

Arthur could feel Merlin’s sharp, blue gaze on him, but refused to meet it. Come tomorrow, all would be returned to normal, with Arthur teasing Merlin and Merlin insulting Arthur. All would be as it usually was. Now, though, Arthur didn’t have the strength for that façade, was far too resentful that there had to actually _be_ a façade. So he avoided the other man’s eyes and kept his thoughts to himself.

Finally, after an endless moment, Merlin did as he was bid and handed Arthur his sleep clothes. Once he’d changed, Arthur collapsed onto the bed, closing his eyes and listening to Merlin puttering about, folding his formal clothing and returning it to its bag. Once he was finished, he too changed into his nightshirt and blew out the candles before settling down onto the pallet at the foot of Arthur’s bed.

“Goodnight, Arthur,” Merlin called softly.

Arthur didn’t answer him.

  


_**Camelot** _

_We arrived in Camelot late last night, far too late for me to do anything but collapse in the bed that had been prepared for me in advance. Today was also filled with a huge bustle of activity, and it’s only now well into the evening that I’ve been able to have a moment to myself._

_Uther has been quite busy since his victory and impromptu coronation. Repairs have been made, and now the citadel and walls around the city gleam like fresh snow. He has reorganized the bureaucracy that keeps his kingdom running, making it much more efficient while not diminishing his own royal authority. He has been building on the collection of manuscripts and books that Vortigern had begun, expanding it as much as he can. Crime has also dropped considerably throughout the kingdom, thanks to the groups of knights that routinely patrol it. Possibly the only real problems he is having is that on occasion, one magician or another takes it into their heads to try to cheat people with sleights of hand, or decides to sabotage his neighbor’s crops. Uther dispenses justice on such cases when he’s able, but it is difficult when the magic user is able to escape or evade him altogether. He was thankful, though, that such instances were becoming increasingly rare, thanks chiefly to the efforts of Nimueh, who serves as an unofficial royal sorceress in Camelot._

_The king showed or discussed this with Aglovale, Agravaine, Tristan, and myself throughout the day. I think he was a little uncomfortable with my presence, hesitant to discuss matters of business in front of a woman, but it only took a few pointed questions about various policies on my part for Uther to move along and ignore the fact that I wore a dress instead of trousers._

_It wasn’t until after the feast this evening that we were able to take time to breathe and absorb everything we’d experienced throughout the day. When the feast ended, my uncle sent both of his sons off to bed, but kept me back. Agravaine was actually the last one out the door, watching my uncle and me with this unfathomable expression on his face before he departed._

_Once we were alone in the solar Aunt Ygrisa had been given the use of for our visit, my uncle sat down heavily, looking rather tired. As I sat down near him, he commented that Uther had done a great deal in the short time that he’d sat on the throne. It wasn’t unusual, he said, for men to get bogged down in the minutiae and become so utterly frustrated that they give up and just muddle through with the inefficient system they had been trying to improve._

_We discussed some of what we had seen before Aglovale got to the heart of what was clearly on his mind. He pointed out that while his alliance with Uther was strong, he was thinking of making it a more permanent one. “I am thinking of offering him Ygraine as a potential bride,” he told me._

_It didn’t take much thought to realize that it would be a good idea. The house of de Bois and the royal family of Cornwall are already bound together by blood thanks to my mother, and by the fact that my uncle has had the task of raising Cornwall’s princess and her sister. Bringing Camelot into the fold in such a manner would bind all three groups together._

_On a more personal front, Ygraine has remained steadfast in her feelings for Uther, refusing to be courted by some of my uncle’s more powerful nobles, and even by Olaf, the heir of one of the other kingdoms. She would certainly not balk at the match my uncle is proposing._

_I gave Aglovale my support of such an arrangement, and offered to speak to Ygraine about it for him if he would like. He smiled and thanked me, but asked that I not say anything just yet. He wasn’t quite ready to make the offer, wanting to think on it more before deciding one way or the other._

  


The courtyard was a mass of organized chaos the next morning. At least, it was for the Cornwall delegation. For Arthur and his party, it wasn’t so bad. There were only the six of them, and every one of them was used to packing lightly and quickly for and during hunting expeditions. As a result, the knights were able to stand with their mounts while the larger Cornwall group hurriedly prepared their horses and bags. 

Arthur busied himself in paying his last respects to Elena and Godwyn. He expressed his thanks for their hospitality, and added, “I only wish our stay could be of a longer duration.”

Elena smiled at him, though her eyebrow lifted in a rather sardonic manner. Aloud, she only said, “You are welcome here at any time, Your Majesty. Please, feel free to stop and take your rest here when you seek to return to Camelot. We would be honored to welcome you here again.”

Arthur nodded and then stepped away, allowing Bedwyr to take his place in saying his farewells. He approached his horse, which Merlin held by the bridle, and quickly leapt up into the saddle. 

They continued their journey south, making good time, and actually crossed the border into Cornwall that evening. Apparently, Arthur discovered, they were expected, because within an hour of stopping for the night, a large party was spotted, riding right toward them.

Arthur had been alarmed, but Bedwyr merely raised a calming hand and assured him, “We were expected to cross the border around this time, Your Majesty, and the group’s arrival was pre-arranged. Also, Lord Godwyn was gracious enough to send a messenger ahead of us to notify them that we were to soon cross the border.”

“Of course,” Arthur replied. He relaxed a little, but kept his hand close to his sword all the same. A healthy dose of caution had never harmed anyone. He also noticed that Samuel, Cador, Gwaine, Leon, and Merlin had all drifted closer to him, in a protective half-circle behind him. 

The approaching group turned out to be a party of six, all dressed in the colors and symbols of Cornwall. The leader quickly caught Arthur’s attention. Though he was dressed similarly to the rest, he also wore a gold circlet studded with sapphires, something faintly similar to what Arthur had worn on formal occasions before he had become king. It even flattened out the man’s dark, curly hair.

As the newcomers dismounted, Bedwyr stepped forward to meet them. He bowed briefly to the leader, who then reached out to him. The two men grasped arms in greeting before turning to face Arthur.

“Sire, permit me to introduce to you Lord Pellinore,” Bedwyr said to Arthur, “Cornwall’s First Knight and our Lady-Regent’s consort.” He then turned to Lord Pellinore and continued, “My lord, this is His Majesty, King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot.”

Pellinore’s eyes were a deep brown, almost black. There was a strange intensity in them as he gazed at Arthur, seeming taking stock of him. Finally, after several moments, the other man bowed to him, saying in a deep, yet quiet, tone, “Welcome to Cornwall, Your Majesty. I was sent from Tintagel to meet you at my lady’s behest.”

Arthur nodded to the other man. “Thank you for such a gracious welcome, Lord Pellinore. I am greatly looking forward to meeting the Lady-Regent.”

Pellinore’s expression remained grave, and his gaze didn’t waver from Arthur’s face. He felt like he was being judged, but wasn’t certain if he had been found wanting or not. 

“My lady has been greatly looking forward to your visit,” Pellinore told him softly. There was _something_ in the older man’s tone, something that sounded like a promise.

Or a threat.

Arthur sighed inwardly. More secrets, it seemed. Would he ever be rid of them?

  


_**Camelot** _

_Well, today has been quite the whirlwind! It seems that my uncle intentions to offer Ygraine’s hand in marriage are quite unnecessary. He has spent the past week since that night pondering it, but today, while he and I had taken an hour to go over some correspondence (his from Brieland, mine from Cornwall), Uther and Ygraine came to us, requesting an audience. They had such eager expressions, that they did not seem to even take note of my presence all that much. Blurting out his request like a nervous, overeager boy, Uther asked Aglovale for permission to wed Ygraine._

_You could have knocked me over with a stiff breeze as Ygraine explained. It seems that she and Uther have been corresponding with one another in secret for some time, disguising their letters by placing them inside letters that Uther and Tristan have been exchanging as well. It seems that, over the course of this illicit correspondence, the two had fallen in love, and their reunion in Camelot had only strengthened their feelings._

_My uncle, I think, was amused by the coincidence of the entire matter, though he did give them a sharp reprimand for writing to one another without his consent. Men of dignity, in his opinion, do not write to the daughters of other men without the consent of the girl’s father or guardian. However, he was prepared to forgive the matter since there was intent to marry, which would alleviate any scandal if their correspondence was discovered by outside parties._

_I admit, I was a little hurt that Ygraine had kept this from me, especially when she admitted that Vivienne had also known about it. So both she_ and _my sister were keeping secrets from me. It makes me wonder if I should ask my sister if she is hiding anything else. She has been rather elusive lately._

Addendum: After Aglovale gave his consent, he summoned the rest of the family. It took some time for them all to join us. Agravaine was in deep in the archives, studying something or other. Aunt Ygrisa was attending the market in the lower town, and Tristan and Vivienne had just returned from a ride in the forest outside the walls. 

My aunt was quite delighted by the news of her daughter marrying such an eligible man, and one she has come to like besides. Agravaine seemed rather indifferent, though he did offer his congratulations. Tristan kissed his sister and congratulated Uther, though he did add, “Hurt my sister and there won’t be enough left of you to bury.” His comment earned a few smiles and even a giggle from Ygraine, but I could tell that he was perfectly serious. Vivienne was very exuberant about the news, throwing her arms around Ygraine and hugging her. She even kissed Uther on the cheek and cheerfully welcomed him to the family. I think the poor man even blushed! He’s clearly not used to receiving kisses from pretty young ladies.

Well, pretty young ladies who aren’t Ygraine, anyway.

All of that aside, Uther was still eager to share the news, and asked to announce the betrothal at the feast, which my uncle agreed to. 

I then spent the next several hours cloistered away with Vivienne and Ygraine, all of us having brought our clothing into my chambers so that we might prepare for the feast. I made light of them having kept the whole thing secret from me, not letting on that it had actually hurt that they hadn’t trusted me. Vivienne just snorted and said, “We didn’t want you running and tattling to Uncle Aglovale.” 

Did she really think I would have ‘tattled’?

Ygraine broke in then, saying that she knew that it wasn’t exactly proper for her to be writing to a man she wasn’t related to, and she hadn’t wanted me to have to choose between preserving a secret and lying to her father, even if it was only a lie by omission. The way she looked at me makes me think that she saw through my seemingly light demeanor. How is it that my cousin seems to comprehend me better most times than my own twin sister? 

Eventually, we left my chambers, ready to attend the feast. Uther must have sent word to his kitchens that something special was going to happen, because the food was perhaps the finest we’ve eaten during this entire visit. 

It was during the meal that I spotted Nimueh, and it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head. She was deep in conversation with Uther’s physician, Gaius, and Sir Gorlois, but she periodically kept glancing up at Uther, an affectionate smile on her lips. It was in that moment that I realized that she didn’t know what was coming, and I was overcome with dread.

I didn’t get a chance to ask anyone about her, though, because it was then that Uther stood up, calling for the attention of everyone in the hall. He praised the de Bois family, calling them his greatest allies in securing Camelot and helping it to become a fine kingdom in its own right. He then said, “It is also my honor to announce tonight my betrothal to Lord Aglovale’s excellent daughter, the Lady Ygraine.”

There was a moment of silence brought on by surprise, but then everyone began to applaud. Some of the knights who were a little into their cups even pounded on their tables, roaring their approval. I, however, couldn’t help but look back to Nimueh. The sorceress sat there, motionless in the sea of exuberant celebration, staring at Uther. I’ve learned over the years to be something of a reader of people, and I could certainly see the shock, the heartbreak, the rage _on her pale face._

_I was right. She had had no inkling of what had been happening with Uther and Ygraine._

_She didn’t remain long after that. As Uther and Ygraine were beset by people offering their felicitations, I watched the sorceress get up from her spot, ignoring Gaius when he spoke to her, and slipped out of the hall, her expression suddenly wiped of all emotion._

_I have never been frightened of magic users, but I cannot help but be with that woman. There is something_ deadly _about her._

_What has Uther done, stringing that woman along in such a manner?_

  


Arthur had long considered Camelot the most beautiful place in all of Albion, and none of the other places he had seen – not the Valley of the Fallen Kings, not the Labyrinth of Gedref, none of them – had ever made him reconsider his opinion. Yet, when he and Lord Pellinore rode at the head of their companions into view of Tintagel, Arthur had to admit that the capital of Cornwall was indeed lovely. Based on the descriptions Bedwyr had given him, he had expected a large fishing hamlet with a stone fortress. 

What Tintagel was, however, was a _city_. The size of it made Camelot seem more akin to the size of one of his kingdom’s outlying villages. While Camelot’s town formed roughly three concentric circles around the citadel, Tintagel was different. From what Arthur could see, there appeared to be an actual building plan, laid out in a grid-like pattern with a main road leading to the castle which seemed to build up against the cliffs. He could even see hints of a wharf, though most of his view in that direction was blocked by the buildings.

Arthur could only marvel at the size of the place, at the indications of plenty and wealth. If it was true that Camelot had been allied with these people, why in the world had his father broken with them? He’d have to have been a fool to turn his back on such people, on such a kingdom.

It wasn’t until they rode further into the city that Arthur began to have an inkling of an answer to that question. As they rode through the main street, he continuously swept his gaze over the crowds, many of whom were watching in return as they passed them by. Men, women, and children of all ages and from all walks of life. When they were almost to the gates of the castle, Arthur nearly jerked his horse to a halt, gaping at what he saw happening down one of the streets that led away from the city’s main road.  
There were four children, none of them appearing to be older than eight, running about playing some kind of game. That in itself wasn’t unusual, as Arthur had seen many such things in Camelot in the town, but what _was_ unusual, even alarming, was the fact that there were the flying pieces of fabric whirling around them. There was no breeze, so they weren’t floating, but they were actually _flying_. 

As if that wasn’t enough of a signal of what was going on, then the fact that the children’s eyes were flashing a golden hue every time one of the pieces of fabric swooped certainly spelled out what was happening.

The children all had magic, and they wielded it openly, without fear of being seen. 

Suddenly, Arthur recalled Geoffrey’s words shortly after Bedwyr and his delegation had arrived – _Cornwall has always welcomed the presence of magic, and might very well have condemned your late father’s policies._

Perhaps the older man was correct.

The scene was soon out of sight as they continued their trek toward the castle gates, and Arthur was forced to turn around. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Leon, and saw the shock on his face. He had seen the children too.

Arthur shook his head slightly, filing the scene away for further thought later. Their party finally passed through the castle gates, which had been thrown open by the guards stationed there.

The courtyard was smaller than that of Camelot’s, but it was by no means inferior. Looking around, Arthur could even see the hints of Roman architecture – such as the columns in certain places of the castle – which surprised him. Cornwall had been the one kingdom that had never fallen under Roman rule – why then would the people of Cornwall use their architecture?

His gaze was then drawn to the main staircase that led into the castle. A large group waited, many of whom he assumed were probably the Lady-Regent’s advisors, perhaps even a council. In the lead of that group, however, were three figures, two of whom were children.

The taller of the children was a young boy, perhaps eight or nine. He stood tall, and seemed to be struggling to keep his face solemn, as would be considered proper for the occasion of welcoming a visiting king. As Arthur came closer, though, he could see the boy’s blue eyes sweeping the party, full of excitement. The smaller of the two was a little girl, likely no more than four or five. She made no attempt to disguise her interest in the happenings going on around her, as her own eyes, the same deep blue of the boy’s, danced about beneath a head of messy blonde curls even as she clung tightly to the hand of the third figure.

Arthur focused on that third person, a woman. She wore a dress of icy blue and a cape of a darker shade, and also bore a circlet very similar to the one Lord Pellinore’s. What caught Arthur’s attention, however, was her face and coloring. Fair hair – like spun gold, to put it poetically – blue eyes that she had clearly passed on to the children who were probably hers, and a round, full face.

Her resemblance to Arthur himself was uncanny, and if the sharp inhalation of breath that came from behind him was any indication, he wasn’t the only one to have seen it. Still, as Arthur looked at her, he thought that she also rather resembled the apparition he had seen of his mother, an image he had never forgotten, though he had striven to forget the circumstances in which he had seen her.

After they dismounted, the lady strode forward to meet them, the children following along at her sides. It was Lord Pellinore who stepped up to introduce them. “My lady, this is Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot,” he informed her. He then turned to Arthur, “Sire, this is Elaine, the Lady-Regent of Cornwall. My wife,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

She gazed at him searchingly, and Arthur wondered if perhaps she noticed their similar features too. Still, the lady gave no hint that she did and instead she only bowed her head and said, “Your Majesty, welcome to Tintagel.” She then glanced down at the children and continued, “This is my son, the Lord Marcus.” The boy took a single step forward and bowed to him, his movements a little stiff, as though he had practiced them extensively beforehand and had them down to memorization. “And my daughter,” Elaine added, “the Lady Aileen.” The little girl offered a curtsey, rising up on shaky knees.

Arthur offered them his best smile in return, bowing. “I am pleased to meet all of you,” he said. Clearly this was a fruitful family, he noticed. Two children who appeared hale and healthy, and if the slight swell of the lady’s stomach was any indication, a third child was due to arrive in the coming months. “And allow me to extend Camelot’s heartfelt gratitude for the supplies you so graciously sent to us in our time of need.”

Elaine nodded, accepting his thanks gracefully. She then offered to have him and his party shown to their chambers, so that they might rest from their journey. “Tonight, we shall feast,” she elaborated after a moment, “as a welcome to the first representative from Camelot that Camelot has hosted in over twenty years.”

Again, another reminder of how the two kingdoms had been silent to one another for as long as Arthur had been alive. He gazed intently at Elaine, but could determine no ill will, no resentment in her expression. After a moment, he agreed to her suggestion, and allowed her to lead the way into the castle. Her children detached themselves from her side, falling back to walk with their father, the young Aileen clutching her father’s hand with just as much enthusiasm as she had held her mother’s, and her smile grew even brighter. 

Arthur had seen such a smile before. Another echo of his mother.

Who _were_ these people?

  


_**Camelot** _

_Gods preserve me, I can barely write. In all my life, I never expected something like_ this _to happen. It never even entered into my thoughts that it would be a possibility, not once. I can scarcely comprehend it._

 _Vivienne is with child, and Tristan is the father. My sister has lain with my betrothed. Numerous times, both before_ and _after our betrothal was announced._

_I do not know entirely what to feel. It isn’t as though Tristan and I have any special understanding. Ours is hardly a love match, as Uther and Ygraine’s arrangement is. We are cousins, friends, yes, but do I have any right to feel angry, betrayed? Is it wrong that I want to slap my sister across the face?_

_My aunt and uncle didn’t take the news very well either. Aunt Ygrisa went white and had to be led from the room by Ygraine, who was nearly just as pale. Uncle Aglovale was shocked and wroth, and did nothing to censure his language when he turned his temper loose on Tristan. Among his words were, “You could have picked any pretty servant to rut with! What were thinking, fucking the current heir presumptive of an entire kingdom?” Agravaine, the knave, just stood in the corner, a faint smirk on his face, like he was enjoying watching our world be turned upside down._

_There were further sharp words for everyone – I may have loosed a few stinging retorts at Vivienne, though I cannot recall for certain – but in the end, all that could be done was for us to decide how to mitigate the damage. The most convenient course of action would have been to have a hurried marriage arranged between Vivienne and Tristan and then pack them off to Cornwall, but since my and Tristan’s engagement has already been made public, that is impossible._

_After much discussion, we decided that the best we could do would be to keep things as quiet as possible. When Vivienne’s condition can no longer be disguised, she’ll go into seclusion and wait for the child to be born. Paying off a servant to keep her quiet about the matter won’t be too difficult, the same for a midwife and possibly a physician._

_It was a good plan, but one that we couldn’t pull off without Uther’s assistance, since we don’t dare remove Vivienne from Camelot at this point. We could hardly hide something like this from him in his palace. I don’t think I have ever felt so humiliated in my life, having to reveal my sister’s and betrothed’s… actions to a man who is not part of the inner circle of our family._

_Thankfully, Uther did not make any snide remarks or expressions – which I suppose makes him better than Agravaine in this matter – but instead offered any assistance he could give. He even provided us with some options that we had not yet considered._

_It seems that Uther’s friend, Sir Gorlois, is of a mind to marry, and Uther had promised to assist the man in the search for a suitable woman. In light of Vivienne’s situation, he suggested, perhaps she should marry Gorlois, once the baby was born._

_It was a magnanimous gesture, true. Few noblemen want ‘sullied’ women. A widow is one thing, but an unmarried girl who became a mother before she was a wife? Hardly. Still, once my uncle and I were certain of Sir Gorlois’ cooperation, we agreed to the match. As the Princess of Cornwall and the theoretical head of our family, I was given the ultimate right to accept or reject the idea._

_Vivienne, naturally, didn’t take the decision well. She strenuously objected to marrying a man who was “little better than a sell-sword”, but Aglovale cut her off and in perhaps the coldest voice I have ever heard him use, he said that she was the one who “destroyed her chances of any grand match by not keeping her legs closed”. His words cut her, I could tell. Her eyes were shiny with tears, and then she turned to me in a silent plea._

_I stared at her. What was I supposed to say? She had let my betrothed into her bed, and still expected to get away with no consequences? Looking back on all of the years, I suppose I have spoiled my sister, letting her have her way on so much. Aunt Ygrisa had tried to instill some discipline in her, but I didn’t help matters by just waving my sister off when she didn’t want to do something. Possibly the only thing I didn’t back down on was the exercises she needed to do to control her Seer abilities._

_No, there could be no backing down. Vivienne believed herself adult enough to take a man to bed. That meant she was adult enough for a husband, and Sir Gorlois it would be. I didn’t think him a violent man, and trusted he would treat her well (must remember to_ make sure _he does). He was taking on a used bride, but would be getting a significant dowry in return. That should be enough to make sure to soothe any irritation he might feel._

_All I said to her was that she best get used to the idea. It was happening, whether she liked it or not._

  


Arthur’s chambers were both finer and yet not than the ones he had stayed in so briefly during his stop in Corbenic. They were not as airy and open as the ones Godwyn and Elena had provided him with, but more enclosed, with smaller windows. It was more befitting to a castle so near the sea, where the weather was harsher, more unpredictable. Yet, despite that, they were by no means lacking in luxury. The furniture was finely made, the fabrics of the bed hangings, curtains, and cushions were all of the best kind. The overall decoration was tasteful. Even the small chamber off of his own, clearly set aside for a personal servant, was well done. Merlin would have no complaints on that front.

“They seem nice,” Merlin said from behind Arthur as he peered out at the view his chamber afforded him. 

Arthur nodded absently, and then the words slipped out. “They allow magic.”

Merlin didn’t respond, but the silence was full of… _something_. Arthur didn’t turn around immediately. He already knew what Merlin’s face would look like – wary, fearful, but strangely _hopeful_.

Arthur didn’t quite know what to make of Merlin’s odd stance on magic. He had condemned it and its practitioners in the past – one such condemnation had ultimately saved Arthur’s father’s life, though Arthur didn’t like to think about that horrible day if he could help it – and yet, there always seemed to be something on the tip of Merlin’s tongue about the subject, something he wanted to say, and yet kept the words locked behind his teeth.

“Is…” Merlin’s voice sounded timid, a rather unnatural sound coming from him. “Does that bother you?”

Arthur didn’t know, to be honest. Magic had been involved in the deaths of both of his parents, had as good as murdered them. His sister wielded magic against the people she had once devoted herself to protecting. Magic had poisoned his entire family.

And _yet_ …

Magic had saved a village under siege. Magic had restored a kingdom’s worth of crops. Magic had saved Leon’s life.

Cornwall didn’t seem to have suffered the dark side of magic that Camelot had. Perhaps there was something to be learned from that, perhaps not. He would just have to wait and see.

“We’ll see what happens,” Arthur said aloud, turning away from the window and facing Merlin. “Get my things washed and dried,” he ordered, changing the subject. “I can’t attend a feast held by the Lady-Regent in dirty or wet clothes.” Crossing the room, he kicked his boots off and sat down on his bed. “I’m going to take a nap.”

He closed his eyes, but still heard Merlin snort and mutter, “Of course. Wouldn’t want Dollop Head to look anything other than pretty for the equally pretty Lady-Regent.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

  


_**Camelot** _

_I’m worried about Vivienne. The pregnancy has been difficult for her to handle, and it’s only grown worse since she was forced to go into seclusion. The official story is that she’s ill, and so far no one seems to be questioning her absence. Still, the babe is exacting a great toll on Vivienne’s body, and the physician, Gaius, has confined her to bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy._

_That isn’t the worst of it, though. Not only is it taxing her physically, but it seems to be wearing on her in other ways too. Her Sight has grown steadily more and more unpredictable the further along the pregnancy develops. Hardly a day goes by that Vivienne’s eyes don’t flare with magic and she becomes lost in one vision or another. I’ve never seen something like this before. Vivienne’s visions have always been sporadic and controlled, thanks to the training she received from Edith. Now, however, it seems like that training is no shield against this magic so long as Vivienne carries her child._

_Not only are the visions harming her mentally, but they’re further hurting her physical state. She’s eating less and less, barely enough to keep her and the baby alive, and she starts screaming during the more horrible ones. It’s a miracle that the guards haven’t heard her cries and come running. I —_

_Addendum : There was a commotion in Vivienne’s chambers that interrupted my writing. _

_Ygraine has made a point to visit Vivienne as often as she can and today she brought Uther along. While they were discussing the plans for the marriage ceremonies – oh, I forgot to mention, the marriage will be a triple ceremony, as Vivienne, Gorlois, Tristan, and I will marry along with them – Vivienne fell into one of her visions. She started flailing about and screaming something, though neither of them could exactly make out what. Ygraine tried to help the maid calm her down, but Vivienne didn’t even seem to recognize either of them while she was in the throes of the vision. Uther stepped out briefly to summon both me and Gaius, but when he returned, my sister seemed to be returning to herself, though she was still emotionally wrought._

_When she saw him, however, she started laughing, a shrill, hysterical laugh that I myself actually heard as I approached the room. I had just entered when Vivienne raised a hand and pointed at Uther, who was standing behind Ygraine as she sat on the edge of the bed. I hurried over to her, taking her raised hand and clasping it, and asked her what was wrong. She only kept laughing for several moments, until she finally calmed down enough to say, “Oh, the irony! My daughter will do what even Ygraine failed to do!”_

_Her eyes were not bright with magic at that time, and yet, I was certain that she was speaking of something else, something beyond what the rest of us could see or understand. I asked her what she was talking about. Vivienne looked at me, as though she had just realized that I was actually there, and she grinned at me, _grinned_ like a madwoman. _

_“My girl will_ break _him.”_

_Addendum the Second : As though this unsettling event was not enough, Aglovale came to speak with me. It seems that while we’ve made provisions for what will happen with Vivienne once the child is born, we’ve made no decisions about the child itself, and he has been growing increasingly concerned about the subject. _

_I wonder if that increase in worry has come from Vivienne’s hysterical prophecy. Uther has retreated away from Vivienne, though I know he and Aglovale have been in council together. I asked him if Uther was expressing some apprehension about the child and the prophecy, and my uncle had the grace to look a bit uncomfortable. Technically, Vivienne is my responsibility, so if Uther had an issue, he should have been discussing it with me, not my uncle._

_I was irritated, but taking it out on Aglovale would have solved nothing, so I simply moved past the slight and focused on the subject at hand. I’d remind Uther of who he should be dealing with later._

_The child, be it girl or boy, carries both the blood of de Bois and Cornwall. Noble blood, royal blood. Shoving the child into the hands of servants or farmers is out of the question. “Especially since my sister and I are all that remains of our house,” I added. We can’t afford to throw away any potential heir. My uncle has three children, two of them sons. My family was not so fortunate._

_It didn’t take long then to decide what to do. We would care for the babe quietly after it was born, and when the time came, the child would accompany me and Tristan to Cornwall. Though the child would not be appointed as my heir – bastards don’t inherit kingdoms unless there is no other option, and even then there is often opposition – he or she can still remain as a member of my family. Because he or she is definitely family, twice over – the child of both my sister and my future husband._

_It was a relatively simple solution. My family grew in number, and the child, should it be a girl, will be well away from Uther. Everyone gets what they want._

  


The feast provided by the Lady-Regent made the feast Godwyn and Elena had put on seem like a meal in Ealdor in comparison. The hall was packed with people – nobles who had come to show themselves as part of the Lady-Regent’s court while she treated with Camelot’s King, knights sworn to her service, servants who weaved deftly through the room going about their duties with complete efficiency. Arthur made sure to point the last part out to Merlin, but not until the feast had ended.

Arthur himself was seated on Elaine’s right, the place of honor. She ceremoniously shared her goblet with him, offered him the choicest pieces of meat from the overflowing platters, and generally saw to it that he was stuffed to the gills.

As the final courses were brought out for people to peruse at their leisure, mainly sweets of every type imaginable, even things Arthur had never tasted before, the entertainment began. As the entertainers, some of them looking eerily like the ones who had come to entertain Camelot on his name day some months before – the worst name day, in retrospect – began their routines, Arthur found himself enthralled. He wasn’t called upon to strap himself to a giant wheel and have knives thrown at him this time – thank the gods, because Merlin, Leon, and Gwaine would all certainly tattle to Gwen when they got home and while she probably wouldn’t lecture him, she’d look _very disappointed_ in him – but Arthur found himself enjoying the show.

Until the end, that is, when brightly colored sparks began to shoot out of their hands. _Their hands._ Blue, red, white, gold, and a riot of other colors fill the room, much to the delight of most of the crowd. Arthur’s eyes widened as he watched, enchanted by the vivid display and also giving his four knights reassuring glances. Well, giving Cador, Leon, and Samuel reassuring glances, anyway. Merlin and Gwaine were too busy enjoying the show, not at all uneasy by its source. 

“I trust our entertainment is not lacking, my lord?” Elaine asked as the entertainers back away to prepare for the next round. The sparks sprinkle down from where they’d shot up, like multicolored snowflakes.

Arthur nodded, bowing his head to her. “It was excellent, my lady,” he said. He paused, debating whether or not to continue, but finally came out and admitted quietly, “We have no such entertainments in Camelot.”

Elaine didn’t appear to be offended by his mention of the current ban on magic in Camelot. Instead, she merely nodded, the ringlets of her fair hair bouncing with the movement. “Yes, despite the actions of the other major kingdoms, Cornwall never outlawed magic within its borders,” she stated. “Indeed, it has flourished here while it withered or was targeted in other places.”

“It’s a little shocking,” he replied. “I’ve never seen or heard of a kingdom that didn’t treat magic with deep suspicion at best.” Olaf disliked magic, if only for what it had done to his daughter. Other kings, like Alined and Cenred, had officially outlawed magic like Camelot, but had shown that they weren’t averse to using it when it suited their aims. 

Elaine smiled, amused. “Cornwall isn’t like other kingdoms,” she said simply.

Their discussion came to a halt then, when the entertainers returned to the work they had been hired to do, and Arthur let himself be drawn into the new show in front of him. The feast ended shortly after, and Arthur returned to his chambers, Merlin following just behind him.

As Arthur prepared for bed, he noticed that Merlin was strangely quiet, rather disproportionately to how much Arthur had seen him enjoying the entertainment at the feast. Normally, Merlin would be chattering away at this point, whether Arthur liked it or not. As he stepped behind the screen to change into his sleep clothes, he asked, “Did you hear anything among the Lady’s servants?” Even if Merlin was himself no longer a servant, he still had a talent for getting other people to talk freely.

“No,” Merlin replied, “nothing in particular. They know who I am, and wouldn’t reveal anything sensitive to a stranger, especially one from another kingdom.”

Arthur nodded, more to himself than anything, and slipped his shirt over his head. 

“It’s amazing,” Merlin added, “how freely they use and embrace magic here.” There was some kind of emotion in his voice that Arthur couldn’t identify.

He stepped back out from behind the screen and started to move toward his bed. “It is,” Arthur agreed quietly, but said nothing else. Once he was settled beneath the blankets, Merlin did a circuit around the room, blowing out candles before he said goodnight and retreated to the small room off of Arthur’s.

  


_**Camelot** _

_I am so exhausted; I barely have strength to lift my quill. The past two days have been a haze of sweat, blood, and pain as I sat with Vivienne through the birth of her child. Aunt Ygrisa was hesitant to let me attend my sister, since it’s usually not considered proper for an unmarried woman to be present in the birthing room, but Vivienne could not be convinced to let go of my hand. Besides, nothing about this entire situation has been ‘proper’. Why start trying to apply that term now?_

_As if the physical aspects were not taxing enough on Vivienne, her visions became even worse than they have been in the past months. It came to the point where she was almost constantly submerged in one vision or another, barely aware of what was happening in the real world. When the time finally came for her to deliver the child, Vivienne could barely be called upon to push, leaving me, my aunt, and the midwives – who had been transported from outside of Camelot, to better preserve the necessary secrecy – to try and coax the child into the world._

_This business of childbirth, I have to say, is a messy, uncomfortable matter. The fluids, the blood, and the pain my sister suffered were horrible enough to_ watch _, let alone consider actually enduring them myself. It’s enough to make me shudder._

_It was just a few hours ago, not long before dawn, that the child was finally delivered safely – a girl. The child was loud and healthy, but Vivienne was in no mental state to be aware of this fact. Once the child had been separated from her body, she slumped back in her bed, her eyes glowing dully. While the midwives examined the child, my aunt and I focused on Vivienne, trying to coax her back to sanity. For some time, however, my sister only kept muttering that twice Camelot would fall at ‘her’ hand. Her voice wasn’t overly loud, given how exhausted she was, but certainly everyone present could hear it. The words were disturbing, to say the least._

_Finally, Vivienne seemed recovered enough to hold her child. I took the infant from one of the midwives, who was staring at Vivienne with something akin to fear, and stared down at the little girl. Her eyes were blue, which my aunt said is normal for new babies, and she had a thin cap of hair. There was nothing there that instantly reminded me of Vivienne or Tristan, no hint that she was a child of two prosperous houses, one of them royal._

_I returned to the bed and leaned in to lay the girl in Vivienne’s arms. As I stepped back to give my sister some privacy, something she would not have for long, I caught a glimpse of a tear at the corner of my sister’s eye. She cuddled the girl close, whispering fervently to her, though I don’t know what she said. While Vivienne was given a chance to fuss, I joined Ygrisa in gathering up the soiled linens so that they could be discreetly gotten rid of._

_“The girl is healthy,” my aunt said as she rolled several of the sheets up into a thick ball. “That’s something to be grateful for.”_

_I nodded, but didn’t say anything. I knew I should be thinking of what had to come next – a nurse for the baby, medicines that would help my sister heal from her ordeal, just to start with – but I was so tired. I longed for my bed, something I hadn’t seen since the labor had begun. Once we finished with the linens, I turned back to Vivienne and saw that she was visibly flagging, her own fatigue obvious._

_Summoning up a new reserve of energy I didn’t know I had, I returned to the bedside and offered to take the baby and put her in the small cradle we had already acquired for her. It was probably a measure of just how tired she was that my sister didn’t argue with me, but instead just let me take the child, who had fallen asleep, from her. As I put the little girl down in the cradle, I realized that there_ was _something we had forgotten – a name. The child needed a name._

_Tristan has not said a word about the child ever since he’d discovered that Vivienne was carrying her. His apparent indifference had not endeared him to me, or to anyone else in the family. I wasn’t about to ask him what he’d like to call her, it was an honor he didn’t deserve. Instead, I looked at my sister. Though her eyes were drooping, she was still watching me and her daughter. I quietly asked her if she had a name she would like to give to her._

_She didn’t respond very quickly, and for a moment I thought that she had fallen asleep. But then, just when I was going to give up, Vivienne spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper._

_“Morgause. Her name is Morgause.”_

_Morgause. My niece. My_ stepdaughter.

 _Addendum : Morgause is gone. Not dead, but gone, beyond my reach, beyond my uncle’s, beyond_ anyone’s. 

_I woke early this morning, intending to spend the morning meal with Vivienne and the baby. When I arrived there, however, I found Aglovale, Uther, and Gaius all standing outside the door to my sister’s chambers, their faces somber._

_I was instantly concerned. Aglovale and Uther hadn’t been in this sequestered wing of the castle for some time. Gaius had been a slightly more frequent visitor, monitoring the health of both mother and child along with the midwives. I demanded to know what was going on._

_None of them said anything at first, just kept glancing at one another, before Gaius finally told me that the baby had perished during the night. I refused to believe it. I had been there just the evening before, had helped Vivienne, had laid Morgause down to sleep in her cradle. She had been_ fine. 

_Aglovale, his face as grey as his hair, said that it was true, that it sometimes happened like that, that babies perished for no explicable reason. Gaius agreed, saying that infants were as big a mystery as childbirth itself. Uther offered his condolences, but I had no desire to hear such stupidities. My niece was_ not _dead. I would know._

_Telling all of them to get out of my sight, I shoved past and into the chamber. Vivienne was alone, curled up on her bed with her back to the door. I didn’t have to hear her sobs to know that she was crying. After slamming the door shut – the men had prudently made their escape, thankfully – I demanded to know what was going on. I refused to accept this foolishness, not unless they showed me Morgause’s little body._

_Vivienne turned over to face me, her face white and tear-streaked. It struck me for a moment, how wrong she looked. Vivienne has always been the free spirit, the joyful one, not weighed down by the expectations of being the leader of an entire country. She wasn’t supposed to be like this._

_She asked me if we were alone, if they’d gone, to which I assured her that, yes, the men had left us. Nodding, she reached out a trembling hand to me. I took it, sitting down on the bed next to her, and she scooted closer, resting her head in my lap, something she hadn’t done since we were little girls._

_She spoke in quiet whispers, saying that Morgause’s nurse had spoken to her a few days ago, before her labor, saying that she had overheard Uther and Aglovale talking about the baby. Uther was wary of the child, had kept referring to Vivienne’s prediction that her daughter would be his enemy. He wanted Morgause ‘dealt with’, and told Aglovale to do something about her, permanently._

_Vivienne looked up at me, her grey eyes bright with tears. “I couldn’t do it, Vevay,” she said hoarsely. “I couldn’t let them kill my baby.” She then went on to explain that she had begged Gaius to help her. He had many contacts beyond the citadel, knew people who could make Morgause disappear to someplace safe. Safer than even Cornwall. Even when Gaius told her that he sensed that Morgause had magic, she wouldn’t be swayed._

_“He sent her away,” Vivienne told me. “To the priestesses. He said they would take care of her, help her control her gifts.”_

_I froze. The_ priestesses? _The priestesses of the Old Religion were not a group many were keen to associate with in this day and age. They were an ancient group, one of the few of the Old Religion that had survived the Roman occupation, but had fallen far from their intended purpose and into corruption. They routinely used magical constructs to control others, and didn’t hesitate to kill anyone who opposed them. Word had also reached Camelot in recent months that Nimueh had joined them after she had left the night Uther had announced his betrothal to Ygraine, something else that didn’t inspire confidence in them. Nimueh frightened me even_ before _she had joined with them._

 _They would_ ruin _my niece, I just knew it._

_But it was too late to do anything about it. She was long gone, and no one knew where she had been taken. There’s no way to retrieve her._

_I wanted to berate Vivienne, to shout at her that she had just set her daughter on the path that would lead to the destruction of everything that was good about the girl. That she had ruined a scion of Cornwall’s royal house. But, looking down at her miserable, despairing face, I just couldn’t bring myself to. I was furious, yes, but lashing out at her would do neither of us any good, and might very well be the final straw for my sister._

_So instead, I just held my sister and let her cry in my arms. I would save my rage for later, and for those who also deserved it for setting this whole mess in motion._

  


The following morning, Arthur broke his fast with Merlin and the knights in his chambers. The servants again proved themselves professional and efficient in setting out the food on the long table that sat near the fireplace, much like the one in his own chambers in Camelot. As they dug into the food, Leon reported, “We received an invitation from Sir Bedwyr to join the knights of Cornwall and Lord Pellinore on their practice field. The tournament that Cornwall is hosting is set to begin in three days.”

Arthur nodded. “They wish to show what they are capable of, and likewise see what we can do. They will have assumed that I brought the best of the best with me.” Which he had, whatever their eccentricities. Cador and Samuel were seasoned veterans, having been among the knights since Arthur himself had joined them at the age of fourteen. Leon had served under Arthur for nearly as long as Merlin had, and had faced many trials with him, the Great Dragon being but one. Gwaine… well, Gwaine was very good at what he did, had proved that more than once even _before_ he had joined the knights of Camelot. He was still impulsive, but there was no denying his skill and that impulsiveness often served him well.

As if reading his thoughts, Gwaine leaned back in his chair, dropping a piece of bacon into his mouth, and then grinned, “Good thing you did, princess. We won’t shame you.”

Merlin chuckled as he spread some preserves onto a piece of bread. Leon shot Gwaine a quelling glance, though there was little heat in it. Samuel and Cador, both well acquainted by now with Gwaine’s love of teasing authority, simply rolled their eyes at their younger cohort. 

Arthur didn’t bat an eye at the disrespectful address, used to it by now too. Instead, he responded with perfect seriousness, “I should hope so, Sir Gwaine. I didn’t bring you for your sparkling wit, after all.”

Merlin snorted and nearly choked on his food. 

Once everyone had finished and the food had been cleared away, Arthur and Merlin were swept across the castle and into a council chamber. Elaine was already seated at the head of the table there, waiting for them. “Good morning, my lord,” she greeted Arthur, and then nodded politely to Merlin. Arthur sat down on her right, while Merlin seated himself next to him, pulling out a sheaf of documents and a quill. 

“I wanted to again express Camelot’s thanks for Cornwall’s timely assistance,” he said to her, “though I will admit that I was surprised by the gesture. Cornwall hasn’t been in touch with Camelot in quite a long time.”

Elaine nodded. “That is true. My lady mother, when she ruled, had many reasons for breaking off relations with your father. Uther is gone now, though, and I saw no reason to visit the sins of the father on the son.”

Arthur stiffened instinctually at the implication that his father had done something that others thought he should be ashamed of. He knew his father had done many things which he himself didn’t agree with, but it still stuck in his craw when someone actually said it to his face, no matter how true it was. What was more, the whole situation was confusing. His father’s papers had said as little about Cornwall as Geoffrey’s archives had, as though the information had been cut out from all information sources in Camelot. 

His confusion was only increased when Elaine added, “I also admit that I was highly curious about you. I’d heard rumors of you, many of them conflicting, and wanted to see you for myself.”

He stared at her and asked, “Why? Why would you be so curious about me? Kingdoms change hands. It’s a fact of life. What is so different about me?”

Now surprise flickered across Elaine’s features and she stared back at him. For several moments, she hesitated, and then said more to herself than to him, “I never expected this. I didn’t think you’d know absolutely nothing about me…” She shook her head. “I thought that surely Uther or even Agravaine would have mentioned me to you at some point.”

Arthur straightened at the sound of his uncle’s name. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Merlin had also abruptly stopped scratching on the parchment and was giving Elaine a suspicious look. Turning his gaze back to the woman, he asked crisply, “What does Agravaine have to do with any of this?”

She raised an eyebrow and her eyes widened. “Why,” she replied, “because the man was my uncle as much as he was his, after all.” She straightened in her seat. “I am Elaine de Bois, daughter of Tristan de Bois, your mother’s twin brother.”

Arthur could only gawk at her in silence. No one had ever told him that his other uncle had had a family. He knew Agravaine was a lifelong bachelor, but of Tristan, everyone had been silent. They always had. No one ever wanted to talk about the man who had died just a few short weeks after Arthur’s birth. Indeed, it hadn’t been until just a few years ago that he had finally heard of what had happened to Tristan – of his madness after Arthur’s mother’s death, of how he had blamed Arthur’s father and had challenged him to a duel to the death, of how his father had been forced to kill him. His father hadn’t even returned his uncle’s body to the man’s family, just set him in a dark corner of the royal crypts, not even anywhere near the sarcophagus of the sister Tristan had so loved.

Elaine appeared to understand his shock, and she sighed and shook her head, muttering, “Of course, Uther would _love_ to forget that he’d killed the father of a four-year-old girl, wouldn’t he?” Her lips tightened and she explained, “Yes, Arthur, there has been the tie of kinship between our two kingdoms, but after everything that happened, my mother wouldn’t countenance remaining allied with the man who killed her husband. Things have changed now, though,” she added.

“What?” he asked, his voice surprisingly blank. “What’s changed?”

“Uther is gone,” she reiterated, “my mother has little control of her mental facilities, and their children are in charge now.” She leaned forward, continuing, “I don’t generally support isolationism, Arthur. Cornwall, no, _Albion_ , was at its best when its peoples worked together. They flourish under those circumstances. That they didn’t work together was Albion’s downfall when the Romans invaded. In the end, only Cornwall was able to beat them back, and just barely.” Her gaze was intense, and Arthur couldn’t even consider looking away. “I hope to one day see Albion return to its united roots, and thought that the best place to start would be to make peace with Camelot and my own kin.”

Arthur was speechless, stunned by her words. Vaguely, he noticed Merlin also gawking at her, like she had just hung the moon.

  


_**Camelot** _

_My wedding took place yesterday. A grand celebration, where wine flowed, everyone was merry, and all was well. The guests toasted my new husband and I, as well as the other two couples who also plighted their troth to one another, my sister and her new lord, and my cousin and the king of this wretched kingdom, a man who thinks nothing of murdering babies just to preserve his own worthless skin._

_I have not forgiven Uther for his desire to kill my niece. It is his fault that she now lies in the hands of the priestesses, whom I could never trust. He may think that Morgause is dead, but she still lives. If Vivienne’s prophecy does come true, it will because he made it so, since his murderous plot drove my sister to send her child into hiding._

_But enough of that, for now. I dare say no more of it. The wedding took place yesterday to great fanfare and bright sunlight streaming through the high windows of the throne room. Ygraine, who oversaw most of the preparations with her mother’s assistance, outdid herself in putting together such a lovely ceremony._

_I found it awkward. The air between Tristan and I has never fully cleared since his affair with Vivienne came to light. My initial anger at him and my sister has faded for the most part, leaving me wary and distrustful. I suppose I have grown spoiled, being faced with a match like that of my uncle and aunt. Aglovale married his first wife for reasons of state, and got an heir on her in accordance with his duty, but he married Aunt Ygrisa out of love and tenderness, feelings which hold true between them even now after so many years. I have known Tristan for much of my life, and have loved him, but as a girl who would love a cousin. When our betrothal was agreed to, I honestly don’t know_ what _I was expecting. Instant fidelity? I could hardly ask that of any man. Still, I think that, had it been any other woman that he had gotten a bastard on, I could find it easier to forgive. Instead it was Vivienne, my sister, my_ twin.

_In that vein, our bedding was set to be awkward and possibly painful. However, Tristan was most respectful, even shy of me. Perhaps he sensed my conflicting feelings? Nonetheless, we managed to consummate our vows, sealing them until death takes us. My aunt had warned me that there would be pain the first time, and I had braced myself for it, but Tristan was very considerate, and the pain did not last long. Indeed, I think I have pricked myself harder when at my needlework._

_We are to leave tomorrow for Cornwall, and the servants are in a mad flurry, packing our belongings and preparing the supplies that Uther has given us so that we may begin our time as the rulers of my country well-prepared. I have to say that I am surprised Uther even thought to do such a thing. Tristan and I ate with him, Ygraine, Sir Gorlois, and Vivienne this morning, along with my aunt, uncle, and Agravaine. Uther and Ygraine could barely be convinced to take their eyes off each other, their lips constantly twitching as they cast sultry, secretive glances at one another. I dare say that their first night together was a rounding success._

_Vivienne and Gorlois, on the other hand, both appeared strained and unhappy. Vivienne’s bright spirit still has not recovered since Morgause was spirited out of the citadel for parts unknown, and she struggles to hide her enmity toward Uther even more than I do. For that matter, she never really supported the notion that she should marry someone she considered unworthy of her bloodline, though she has never dared say so in front of our uncle after his cold response to her complaints._

_Speaking of my uncle, I admit that I am also a little worried for him. His health has been fragile lately, which has had my aunt worried for him. I wish he would take time to rest, to return to Solstone or even Brieland, which is far more comfortable for him than being a guest here in Camelot. Nonetheless, I know he will not. Not while he believes Agravaine to be unready to take his place. The fact that Agravaine also remains unmarried and without an heir of his own also does him little favor in his father’s eyes._

  


Arthur spent the rest of the day processing what he’d learned. He had a cousin, or rather, he had _cousins_ – because Elaine’s children were his kin too. He had grown up with only his father and Morgana as kin – and he had never known about Morgana’s relationship to him for most of that time – and had had only the vaguest notion that Agravaine existed, because the older man had hardly ever visited Camelot. 

Why? Why had Tristan’s family been hidden from him? Was it because of what had happened between his father and uncle, as Elaine seemed to think? That would certainly explain the lack of contact – his father was hardly the type to admit his faults or express remorse, even when it was called for – but not the fact their very existence had been actively concealed. 

Arthur was growing heartily sick of the secrets that surrounded him. These family secrets, the secrets that seemed to surround Merlin like a black cloud, all of them. 

He spent the rest of the day in his chambers, most of it alone. He even sent Merlin out, telling him to leave him in peace. The tension between him and his friend had not eased as he had thought it would back in Corbenic, but in fact seemed to be increasing. There would have to be some kind of reckoning, a demand for answers, but not now. Now, Arthur would focus on this mess of familial mysteries that his father had left for him to sort out. Merlin would have to wait.

The following morning, a message arrived from Elaine, inviting him to take the morning meal with her. Looking up from the neatly written message, he said, “Please thank Her Grace and tell her that I accept her invitation. I shall join her shortly.”

The young woman, who seemed to him to be more of a handmaiden than a simple servant, curtsied and left the room with a kind smile. Arthur was left to throw on his jacket and buckle his belt. 

“Arthur?” Merlin’s tone was tentative. Arthur sighed inwardly and turned to him, keeping his expression as neutral as he could. 

“Eat with the knights this morning, Merlin,” he ordered him. “Then go down to the practice field with them, learn what you can about the knights of Cornwall.”

A flicker of confusion crossed the other man’s face. “Didn’t Leon and the others already do that?”

“I want as many reports as possible,” Arthur replied as he ran his fingers through his hair, struggling to put it to right before he left the room. “You see things differently than they do. I want as much information as we can get.”

He didn’t wait for any further response before walking out of the chamber. It took Arthur a bit longer than he’d thought it would, but with the help of a few helpful servants, he was able to find the small chamber that Elaine had summoned him to. 

Much to his surprise, he found that she wasn’t alone when he walked in. Pellinore was seated at the table with her, and while that surely shouldn’t have been much of a shock, the fact that both young Marcus and little Aileen were there certainly was. Arthur could barely recall sharing a meal with his father before the age of fourteen. Often he had taken his meals with Morgana, her governess, and his tutor, well out of his father’s sight. Yet, here was another royal family, breaking bread together. 

Arthur was quickly becoming more and more aware of the things he had missed out on as a child.

Elaine smiled at him when she spotted him standing in the doorway. “Your Majesty,” she greeted cheerfully, “good morning! Please, join us.” She waved her hand at the last empty chair at the table. 

“Thank you, milady,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “And please,” he added, “Arthur.”

Elaine’s smile seemed to grow even brighter. “Elaine.”

The food was excellent, a light fare of bread and fruits. Elaine and Pellinore seemed quite comfortable spending time with their children, placing food on their plates and other such things. Elaine didn’t even hesitate to help Aileen scoop out the seeds of one of the fruits. As they were finishing, Arthur said, “I’ve been thinking about what you told me yesterday. It was such a shock. I had no idea that there were any other de Bois’ left beyond my… our… uncle.”

Elaine wrinkled her nose briefly. “It’s quite true. I was only four years old when my father… passed, but I do faintly remember him.” She stared at him intently. “You look very much like him, fair haired and blue eyes.”

He nodded, accepting the compliment in the spirit it was given. “I thought you rather resembled my mother,” he told her in return. The moment the words were out of his mouth, Arthur felt a flash of regret, and hoped she wouldn’t ask him to explain how he could know what a woman who had died moments after his birth looked like.

Fortunately, she didn’t. Instead, she moved on. “If you are curious to know more of our family, then would you like to speak to my mother?”

Arthur’s eyebrows went up. He had heard little of Princess Vevay, and although he knew, intellectually, that the woman must still be alive, her existence hadn’t really sunk in. 

Elaine appeared to understand, and she smiled sadly. “My mother still lives, but her mind is often rather disordered and has been so for many years.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I think perhaps she buckled under the pressure of losing so many that she loved in a short space of time – her sister, her cousin, her husband, and her baby son.”

Arthur cocked his head quizzically. He imagined that the cousin she’d referred to was his mother, but Vevay had a sister?

“Her twin sister,” Elaine elaborated, “the Lady Vivienne. She was married to a Camelot nobleman, Gorlois, I think.”

Vivienne, wife of Gorlois. Vivienne, mother of Morgana. Gods, how connected were they?

“As I was saying,” she continued, “she is reasonably coherent most of the time, though her health has grown rather fragile in recent months.” She paused to smile at her children. “She loves receiving visits from her grandchildren, loves playing with them.”

“I would be honored to visit Her Highness,” Arthur said. He wondered if she would tell him something of his mother, something real, something that would be more trustworthy than the shade conjured by Morgause.

Pellinore took his children in hand, leading them from the room, to “make certain they didn’t run for the practice field to avoid their tutors.” That left Elaine to lead Arthur out of the small breakfast chamber and down the corridors, further into the royal family’s private wing.

As they walked, Elaine cautioned him, “I will warn you that it is best not to mention Uther in her presence. My mother’s feelings about him are still very strong, and even speaking his name is guaranteed to get her to fly into a rage.”

“Of course,” Arthur replied. “Thank you for the warning.”

Arthur had heard whispers of what happened when nobles went mad, how their families locked them away as though they were an embarrassment, something shameful. There were tales of restraints, of tortures that were inflicted in the name of ‘treatment’. Much to his relief, it appeared that Elaine had not treated her lady mother in any such manner. Vevay’s chambers were bright and airy, with a fine view of the wharf and the sea beyond it. A maidservant and a nurse, both dressed in crisp, efficient dresses, were also present with their charge.

Vevay herself sat in the corner by one of the windows, rocking her chair as she gazed out at the view serenely. Her hair was nearly all white, save for a strand or two of black that still stubbornly clung to its original color. She was also a bit thin, but seemed to have otherwise aged very well.

“Mother?” Elaine called softly. She approached the older woman while Arthur hung back, not wishing to overwhelm her. “How are you this morning?”

Vevay turned to stare at her. A moment passed, but then recognition seemed to flicker through her grey eyes. “Elaine, dearest,” she said, and her voice was strong despite the seeming frailty of her frame. “Good morning.” Her eyes swept the room, going right over Arthur without even pausing on him, until they landed on a trunk at the foot of her bed. She started to push herself out of her chair, saying, “Come, I want to show you these things I have, for your trousseau when you marry.”

Elaine didn’t flinch at her mother’s obvious confusion. Instead, she intercepted her mother before she could take more than a few steps, clasping her hands in her own. “Mother, I’ve brought you a visitor,” she said gently as she tried to guide her mother toward Arthur instead of the trunk.

Now Vevay’s gaze, unusually sharp, focused on him. He bowed to her, but waited for Elaine to introduce him to the older woman.

“This is Arthur, Mother,” she said, “Your cousin Ygraine’s son.”

Vevay stiffened and her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t look away from him. Then, slowly, she reached out and grasped his chin between two fingers in a surprisingly firm grip. Her eyes seemed to burn into his face, but Arthur forced himself not to pull away from her.

Finally, she seemed satisfied and released him, leaving his chin tingling from the pressure her fingers had put on it. “You’re a de Bois all right,” Vevay stated, sounding pleased. “You even look like my husband a bit, which is fortunate. The de Bois’ were usually quite handsome.” She snorted at her own words, adding, “Except for Agravaine. He was the ugly duckling amongst a crowd of fair-haired angels.”

Arthur struggled not to snort. It had struck him as well, the fact that there was virtually no resemblance between his uncle and his mother.

“Uncle Agravaine must have resembled his mother,” Elaine suggested as Vevay clasped her arm and let her daughter lead her back to her rocking chair. While they did so, Arthur took two chairs from the table and carried them over to where Vevay was settling herself. After Elaine sat down, Arthur took the remaining chair.

Vevay appeared quite coherent now, given that only minutes ago she thought that her daughter was still unmarried. She conversed with him easily enough, anyway. “Uncle Aglovale expanded much of the de Bois holdings to what they are today,” she said. “He was a king in his own lands, though he never took such a title.” A look of fierce pride crossed her aged face. “The de Bois’ had no need to be kings, when kings deferred to them anyway.” 

Elaine’s lips twitched and she murmured, “Mother takes great pride in her de Bois blood.”

Vevay heard her and swung her attention to her daughter with all the speed of a snake. “You should too!” she exclaimed. “You’re a de Bois in name _and_ by blood, child! Three-quarters of your bloodline is de Bois.”

“Of course, Mother,” Elaine hastened to reassure her, and Arthur thought she did sound a little chastened. “I am very proud of our family’s accomplishments.”

The older woman nodded. “As you should be.” She turned back to Arthur. “What about you, Arthur, Ygraine’s son? Do you take pride in your de Bois heritage?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he answered promptly. “I am very proud of my mother and her kin.” _Except for Agravaine, the traitor,_ he didn’t say out loud. “I only wish I could know more. The de Bois’ haven’t been in Camelot very much in my lifetime.”

“ _Camelot…_ ” The word came out of Vevay’s mouth in a hiss, and Arthur straightened in response, now knowing he had said the wrong thing. 

“That accursed place is a killing field,” she growled. “Uther is bathing it in the blood of innocents to assuage his own guilt!” She started to struggle to stand up, snarling, “Damn him, that murdering, unfaithful bastard! I’ll kill him myself, I swear it!”

The room seemed to explode into action. Elaine leapt to her feet, fast despite her swollen belly, and tugged on Arthur to move with her. At the same time, the nurse and maidservant, who had been meekly unobtrusive just moments before, appeared out of nowhere next to Vevay. As Elaine dragged him toward the door, Arthur could only watch as the two women gently pushed Vevay back into her chair, murmuring soothingly. What they did next as Vevay struggled against them, he didn’t know, because the door was shut before he could see anything.

He turned to his cousin, saying, “I’m sorry —”

She touched his arm, her smile strained, “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She sighed, her eyes resting briefly on the closed door, and Arthur could see the distress swimming there. “It would be impossible to warn you about everything that sets her off. She’ll be well again soon enough.”

“If… if I may ask,” he said slowly, “what is…” He trailed off.

Elaine seemed to understand. “I’m not entirely certain. The strain of so much loss, as I mentioned, was certainly a factor, but she still endured those losses for over a decade, until I was old enough to establish a regency of my own.” She bit her lip, and seemed so uncertain, even vulnerable, and Arthur thought it a measure of how much she was coming to respect him, that she was willing to appear so in front of him. “The forgetting sickness that strikes so many of the elderly is also a possibility, but my mother wasn’t very old when she handed over the reins of government to me. She would only tell me then that she could ‘feel something inside of her weakening’, and she wouldn’t drag Cornwall down with her.”

The entire subject seemed to be upsetting her, so Arthur tactfully asked her no further questions. After a moment, Elaine pasted a smile on her face and asked, “Shall we go to my study then? We can look over the details of the treaty proposal.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

They set off, leaving Princess Vevay to the care of her servants, and to the demons that seemed to be nipping at her heels. Demons only she could see.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_My country has declined in my absence, and I am absolutely furious over it. Tristan and I arrived in Tintagel a week ago after several weeks of journeying through Camelot, Corbenic, some of the de Bois lands, and through Cornwall itself. We made fairly good time, and thus arrived ahead of schedule, and it showed. The steward my uncle appointed was clearly unprepared for our coming, despite having received ample warning via messengers that have updated our movements constantly. His management has clearly grown lazy, if the state of the castle is anything to go by – a skeleton staff of servants, layers of dust on practically everything, moth-eaten tapestries, and all the like. I examined the various account books and saw many discrepancies between them and the reports that had been sent to me over the years. The man has been pocketing funds for his own use, even at the expense of my people. I promptly ordered him thrown in the dungeons for it, or at least restrained if the dungeons were not fit to hold him._

_There has been so much to do. Tristan and I have coordinated our efforts, he hiring people to get the castle back in order and manning its defenses with people other than the men who escorted us from Camelot. He is hoping to restore the order of knights, which was disbanded after my father perished and my sister and I left. I myself have set to making sense of the accounts while also summoning my lords. It is time they realize that they have a prince to rule over them again, even if that prince is a woman._

_Perhaps Cornwall may be restored to its former glory, so that we may again be worthy of our great history._

_Addendum : Aglovale is dead. I can scarcely write it, much less believe it. My uncle, the man who taught me to rule a kingdom, to bring lords and common folk alike to heel, is gone. Oh, uncle, why could you not slow down? Why did you drive yourself into the ground?_

_Tristan will depart for Brieland on the morrow. As I am committed to a series of councils with my nobles, I cannot leave, and so my husband must go without me. I cannot be there to comfort my aunt, who is no doubt devastated by her loss. I cannot console Ygraine, who likely weeps for the father whom she adored._

_And yet, I shamefully still feel glad that I am to remain behind. I have no desire to deal with Agravaine, who is no doubt strutting like a coxcomb now that he has finally come into his inheritance. Nor do I wish to see firsthand my sister bickering with her husband. If the letters I have received from Vivienne and Ygraine both are any indication, my sister’s relationship with Gorlois has not improved._

_All I can do is send a letter of condolence to my aunt, and bury my desire to weep for the loss of the man who made my childhood worthwhile._

  


By that evening, Elaine’s spirits appeared to have recovered from the stressful visit to her mother. They ate together, joined by Merlin, Pellinore, Arthur’s knights, and even a few of Cornwall’s knights, including Bedwyr. It was a relaxed meal, with everyone breaking off into smaller groups to converse together. Arthur was enjoying himself immensely, as Elaine seemed to have a plethora of stories to tell about his mother and her own, as well as their mutual Aunt Vivienne, and the scrapes they got up to as girls.

“… and then Aunt Vivienne said with perfect innocence, ‘But Uncle, how were we to know that Lord Berilac didn’t like mint greens? They’re a specialty in Mercia!’” 

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “It seems our aunt was quite the character,” he said, taking a sip of wine from his goblet.

Elaine grinned. “Indeed, Mother always called her sister a free spirit. It was something that bound Aunt Vivienne and Aunt Ygraine together, for Aunt Ygraine was quite exuberant herself in her youth. Mother was more introverted, though she loved them both fiercely and could occasionally be dragged into their predicaments, especially in their younger years.”

Undoubtedly, she would have continued with her stories, had events been different. The doors of the chamber were thrown open, however, ending all thoughts to tales of people either dead or lost. A trio of guards burst into the room, and immediately, the atmosphere changed, growing tense, alarmed.

The leader of the three bowed hurriedly to Elaine, saying, “My lady, young Lord Marcus and Lady Aileen are missing!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Have they slipped their nurse’s watch again?”

He shook his head. “Their nurse is dead. A servant discovered her lying on the floor of the nursery, her neck broken, when she sought to deliver them their meal.”

Arthur watched the color drain from Elaine’s face. Pellinore stood up and immediately began issuing orders. Bedwyr and the other knights also got to their feet. “I want a full search of the castle now,” the man barked, his expression furious. “Close the gates, no one in or out!”

“My lord,” the guard interrupted, “we also found this.” He held up a scrap of fabric, and Arthur froze. It was red, bright red. It even looked just like the fabric of Camelot’s capes.

If they thought that Camelot had kidnapped their lady’s children…

Elaine rose to her feet and held her hand out to the guard. He gave the fabric to her while casting suspicious, distrustful glances in the direction of Arthur and his companions. She turned the little square over in her hand, examining it closely before looking in their direction. “It makes no sense,” she muttered. “You have no reason to take my children, nor are you foolish enough to think it would gain you some kind of advantage while you are here as a guest in my own city.”

Arthur nodded. “I would not behave so dishonorably.”

His words did little to dispel the misgivings that were written on the faces of the guards, and knew that more would be required. “Search our chambers,” he said. “We had nothing to do with this, I swear it on my honor.”

Pellinore snapped an order at the guards, telling them to do just that, and then turned to Bedwyr. “Supervise the search, and report back.” 

As the men departed the room, Elaine’s hand clenched around the little piece of fabric. “The North Tower,” she suddenly blurted out, her voice taking on a queer, shaking quality to it. “They love to go to the North Tower. They might have hidden there if someone tried to take them.” She started to hurry toward the door. “We should check there.”

Pellinore reached out and clasped his wife by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. “My lady, wait. I will send a few guards to look.” He started to lead her back to the table. “Please, sit down before you wear yourself out.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “My children may have been kidnapped and spirited out of the castle!” she snapped. “Wearing myself out is the least of my concerns!”

Arthur stepped forward and pulled out a chair, the one he himself had occupied just minutes ago. In the most even tone he could manage, he said, “My lady, _cousin_. Stay calm for your people’s sake, for your children’s sake, and for your baby’s sake.” He gestured to her belly, and her hand automatically came down to rest on the swell. “You can’t be of any use to them if you become overwrought and panicked.”

Elaine took a deep, shuddering breath as she slowly sank into the chair Arthur offered her. She nodded carefully, replying, “Yes, you’re right.” She turned her attention back to her husband. “I’m sorry for snapping, dearest.”

Pellinore knelt beside her, and Arthur saw an expression of tenderness cross his face, so unlike the usual stern air Arthur was accustomed to seeing about him. In that moment, he realized that their marriage was far more than the usual alliances among the aristocracy. Whatever it might have been when they started, there was love between them now. It might not be like Arthur’s grand passion for Guinevere, which had led him to some of the most illogical decisions he’d ever made in his life, but it was no less powerful in its own way.

“Do not apologize, beloved,” Pellinore said. He took one of her hands and brought it to her lips. “I will find our little ones, and whoever took them will pay dearly for it, I promise you.”

  


_**Tintagel** _

_Tristan returned home this afternoon, highly displeased by what he witnessed in Brieland. Aglovale’s funeral was a brief, hurried affair, hardly at all worthy of a man of his stature, not to mention the father of Camelot’s queen. Agravaine was apparently of the mind that funds should not be wasted on a dead man and that his father should be buried quickly, quietly, and next to the sarcophagus of his first wife, Corliss, who was also Agravaine’s mother._

_Then, as if such an insult was not enough, Agravaine complained heartily about having to fulfill the terms of Aglovale’s will, disliking that he had to give up even part of his inheritance. The land that Ygrisa brought to their marriage as her dowry was ceded to Tristan and will one day become part of Cornwall when it is inherited by our children, while my uncle provided a dower for my aunt and a bequest for Ygraine. All of it is a drop in the overall goblet that is the de Bois holdings, and according to my husband, Agravaine “pissed and moaned like a child forced to eat his vegetables.”_

_Agravaine ultimately fulfilled the terms, as he was required to do, but in a very vicious manner. He gave Ygrisa the remotest, poorest part of the de Bois lands as her dower, which provides just enough income and food to sustain Ygrisa and the other inhabitants. It was so horrible that Ygrisa felt obliged to take refuge in Camelot so as not to be a further drain on the dower, one its people can ill-afford. Tristan escorted her there, seeing her safely to Uther’s hospitality and protection._

_Of course, going to Camelot meant that he got a first-hand look at that kingdom’s troubles. Uther, it seems, has taken to warring with his neighbors, particularly Cadred of Escetia, at every opportunity. Ygraine is also unhappy because she is not yet child. Gorlois is often with Uther on campaign, leaving Vivienne to her own devices and while she may prefer this, Tristan heard rumors that Vivienne is taking on lovers whenever she can._

_Vivienne has written of her antipathy for her husband, and I’ve tried to help her reconcile herself to the match, but she refuses to listen to me. She has not yet come out and stated that she blames me for her loveless marriage, but I sometimes feel that it is there, in between the lines of her letters._

  


The search went on for some hours. Once his chambers and those of the knights had been cleared of anything suspicious, Arthur offered his and their services in assisting in the search. Gwaine, all traces of his usual good humor gone, and Leon accompanied Bedwyr into the lower floors, including the dungeons. Cador and Samuel went with some of the other knights to search the more distant towers. 

It was well into the early hours of the morning that everyone returned, all with defeated expressions. “There is nothing, my lady, my lord,” Bedwyr told Elaine and Pellinore. “We have torn the castle apart, and there is no trace that we can detect.”

Arthur listened grimly as everyone else reported the same thing. Elaine was no longer hoping that the children might have hidden themselves away from their attackers, and had grown steadily paler and paler as time had passed. It was especially worrying that nothing had been found. Kidnappers would have left some kind of ransom or message, claiming responsibility and issuing demands. That there was _nothing_ …

“Call for Glynis,” Elaine said suddenly, cutting into Arthur’s thought.

Arthur started, confused, but Bedwyr merely nodded, turned on his heel, and marched out the door, a few of the guards following close behind. “Who is Glynis?” Arthur asked.

Pellinore glanced in his direction, seeming surprised that he was still there. “Glynis is a sorceress,” he explained. “She and others like her know how to sense magic, and how it was used in places.”

“If there’s no sign that my knights can detect,” Elaine added, “then that leaves the possibility that magic was used to cover up the evidence of the… kidnapping.” She paused, swallowing with difficulty. “If that’s the case, Glynis will find it. She is one of the best.”

Arthur nodded slowly. All he had ever seen of magic was its ability to destroy or, in the other extreme, restore. What Elaine and Pellinore described was unlike anything he had ever heard of before. Was this a common skill? 

In the end, it didn’t take long for Arthur to see what the others described. Word arrived within an hour that Glynis had been found and was being escorted up to the castle. Elaine and Pellinore rushed out of the dining room then, leaving Arthur and Merlin to follow. As they strode along the corridors, Arthur cast a few looks in Merlin’s direction. He had been unusually quiet for some time, and Elaine’s explanation of Glynis’ abilities had left him absolutely white.

Yet again, a strange reaction concerning the subject of magic – fear, when just days before he had spoken in support of it. What was going through his fool head?

Elaine and Pellinore led the way up to the nursery, where they found Bedwyr waiting with a cloaked figure. As they approached, the figure reached up and threw back the hood of her cloak. Arthur blinked. The woman standing before him was probably younger than Merlin, looking to be no more than eighteen, perhaps nineteen, years old. Her hair was a mousy, plain brown, but her skin was smooth and her blue eyes were bright and clear.

She curtsied to Elaine and Pellinore. “My lady, my lord,” she murmured. “How may I be of service to you?”

“My children have been stolen, Glynis,” Elaine told her, clearly of no mind to bother with niceties. “My knights and guards can find no trace of where they might have gone.”

Glynis nodded slowly. “I see,” she replied. Reaching up, she untied her cloak and removed it. Bedwyr promptly reached out and took it from her as she stepped toward the door. She went inside alone, leaving the rest of them to watch from outside.

Arthur stood next to Elaine and watched as Glynis walked to the center of the nursery. The body of the nurse had long since been removed, but there still remained a stain of blood that showed where the woman had fallen, still bright red against the grey stone. She stared down at the mark, and then slowly raised her hands and began to chant. The words were unknown to Arthur, but he thought he recognized the language and tone from other sorcerers he had encountered in the past. Her hands began to glow with a pearly white light and a strange wind appeared out of nowhere, wafting her hair around her shoulders. In response to whatever power Glynis was calling on, dark, black balls began to appear. The first one hovered over the bloodstain, then a second and third over the children’s beds, and finally a fourth, a bigger one, that hovered above the rest, close to the ceiling. The first three lingered for a few moments, but then faded in the face of whatever Glynis was doing.

The fourth one, however, seemed to fight her. It darted lower, first toward Glynis, but then toward the door, toward Elaine. Immediately, Arthur grabbed Elaine by one of her arms and pulled her back, barely noticing that Pellinore and Merlin had also latched on to her and were pushing her behind them.

Arthur saw Glynis’ eyes narrow, saw the flash of fury, and her chanting grew louder, more powerful. The black ball halted its advance towards the door, and then started back to Glynis. She paused in her chanting, and then bellowed out a single, harsh shout. A corresponding burst of white, hot light flew from her hands and slammed into the black ball. The explosion was blinding, forcing Arthur to throw his hand up to shield his eyes.

When the light at last faded, Arthur lowered his hand and stared into the room. Glynis still stood in the center of the room, her hair askew and a terrible expression on her face, making her look more like one of the fey than the young woman she actually was. Then, just as suddenly, the expression was gone, and she was again recognizably human. She staggered, her body sagging with weariness. Arthur started forward to assist her, but was beaten to it when Merlin suddenly darted past him and caught her before she collapsed. He led her over to an empty chair and helped her to seat herself.

Glynis smiled her thanks at him, and Arthur thought she looked strangely star-struck as she gazed at Merlin. He didn’t have time to consider that – except to file it away as something to tease Merlin about at a more appropriate time – when she turned her tired gaze to them. “It’s all right now, my lady, my lords,” she assured them. “The foul magic is gone, and will do no further harm.”

Pellinore was the first to enter, still looking about warily, and then finally allowed Elaine and Arthur to follow him. “What _was_ all of that?” Arthur demanded.

“Ill-intentioned magic, Your Majesty,” Glynis answered, her tone as exhausted as her posture. Merlin still stood at her side, the picture of concern. She smiled at him again, this time a mixture of thanks and amusement. “The smaller spells were merely echoes of what was here before – one that killed the nurse, two that put the children into a deep sleep before they could get off their beds. The fourth, however, was still an active spell.” She gave Elaine a grim look. “It was tailored to respond to Elaine herself – to incite suspicion and anger against… something to do with a specific object, but whatever it was isn’t here.”

Pellinore straightened, comprehension dawning on his face. “The fabric piece that the guards found,” he breathed.

Arthur understood, as did Elaine. “They wanted to turn me against Camelot,” she said. “That’s why it came toward me – it was trying to fulfill its purpose.”

Glynis nodded. “Indeed,” she agreed. “I was able to restrain it because its conditions weren’t fully fulfilled. You were close, but not in the room, and you weren’t holding the specified object.”

Arthur looked around the room. There was every indication of life in this room – a clutter of toys in the corner, from toys to wooden swords, a wardrobe that hung open. This was a place that should have been safe for his young cousins, but had instead been invaded and defiled with death and violence. “Someone has used magic against the ruling family,” he stated. “What do the laws of Cornwall call for such a case?”

Elaine crossed her arms in front of her. “It is the same when magic is used against anyone,” she replied. “First we have to discover the perpetuator’s identity.”

“I attempted to do so, my lady,” Glynis cut in. “I cannot give you a name, but I can give you some clues.” Confusion marred her pretty features. “The sorcerer’s blood signature is actually quite similar to His Majesty’s. It’s not the same, however, and it is also female.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold. To his knowledge, the only person of his bloodline that had magic was…

“Morgana,” Merlin said it out loud, anger clouding his features.

“Why?” Arthur wanted to know. “I mean, I know why she would go against us – she has been against me and tried to have me killed for years – but why would she take your children? Have you even met her?”

Elaine nodded, her eyes cold and harsh in the torchlight. “Yes, she and I have met a few times. Morgana accompanied Morgause here on her periodic visits a few years ago, until Morgause was banished.”

“Morgause?” Now Morgause was involved in all of this? “Why was Morgause here?”

Elaine looked at him in some confusion for a moment. “I didn’t tell you? Morgause is my half-sister, my father’s bastard by Aunt Vivienne?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “Gods,” he gasped.

She winced. “I didn’t,” she grimaced. “I’m sorry, Arthur. It’s common knowledge that Morgause was my older half-sister here in Cornwall. I’m used to everyone knowing about it. I just assumed…” She trailed off.

Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with tired fingers. His head was aching fiercely from lack of sleep and one revelation after another. “It’s all right,” he managed. “You said Morgause was banished? Why?”

“She tried to use magic on Elaine,” Pellinore said, his voice thick with anger and disapproval. “She attempted to assume control her, to get her to raise Cornwall’s armies against Camelot.”

Glynis nodded. “My aunt was present when it happened; she managed to fight the Lady Morgause off long enough for the guards to restrain the witch.” Her expression grew cold. “The effort burned my aunt’s magic out, and she was dead within a month.”

“Morgause was banished from Cornwall, forbidden to return on pain of death,” Elaine explained. “Morgana, however, continued to visit, as was her right as my cousin. She kept trying to convince me to join her and Morgause against Camelot, that Morgause was heartily sorry for ‘losing her temper’ as she did.” Elaine snorted bitterly. “Did she expect me to believe that? Morgause never did anything she didn’t mean. I’ve known that since I was a little girl.”

“The last time she was here was just a few weeks after Samhain, last year,” Pellinore told Arthur. “She informed us of Morgause’s death, holding the entire kingdom of Camelot responsible. But then she explained how she had torn the veil between life and death and released the Dorocha, by using Morgause as a sacrifice.”

“Morgana killed my sister,” Elaine said, her tone brooking no argument. “Whatever happened before that, it was Morgana who plunged the knife in and ended her life.”

Arthur nodded, inwardly reeling from this new information. “I never realized we were all so closely related,” he murmured.

Elaine laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Yes, it is rather startling, isn’t it? The four of us are all just shy of crossing the line to being products of incest.”

An uncomfortable silence descended in the wake of that statement, and Arthur tried not to think of how, some years ago, his father had hinted that Morgana would be considered an acceptable bride for any prince. At the time, he’d thought that his father was encouraging him to think of Morgana as a prospective bride. Now, he hoped, he _prayed_ , that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want to think that his father had actually urged his children to think of each other in such a manner.

Finally, Glynis spoke up. “I can try to track the Lady Morgana’s signature, to see if she is still close. It’s likely she won’t have gone too far, especially with Lord Marcus and Lady Aileen in tow.”

Elaine blinked rapidly, clearly having been lost in her own thoughts, but then she nodded. “Yes, that’s probably our best hope.”

Arthur watched as Glynis began to chant again, and soon enough he, Elaine, Pellinore, and Merlin were all following along in the sorceress’ wake. They strode through the corridors and out into the courtyard, which was still lit by torches. She led them along the edge, staying close to the walls of the keep, until they came to the gates. Glynis stopped, her brow furrowed in concentration. “She went into the city,” she reported. “It is more difficult to track her through all of the lingering signatures of everyone else that has been there, many of them magical themselves.”

“Please try, Glynis,” Elaine said. She was looking increasingly frantic. As Glynis led the way into the deserted streets of the city, Arthur could hear her muttering to herself, swearing to gut Morgana if she harmed either of her children.

Merlin, who had been sticking close to Glynis and watching her every move, soon fell back to walk beside Arthur. “This is fascinating, Arthur,” Merlin said lowly. “I never knew magic could _do_ things like this!” He sounded so excited by the prospect.

Arthur couldn’t help but be amused by the younger man’s excitement. “Are you interested in the magic, Merlin?” he teased. “Or the lady who uses it?”

Merlin started to nod, but then stopped as he actually considered Arthur’s words. His resulting glare made Arthur smirk.

“Prat,” Merlin muttered.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_I’ve just received a letter from Vivienne. Apparently she’s pregnant, only the child is not her husband’s. It’s Uther’s. Vivienne took our cousin’s husband to her bed and got a bastard from him._

_I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Vivienne had no problem bedding Tristan after our betrothal was made public. Tristan and I have never discussed the matter, nor have either of us ever mentioned little Morgause to one another, but I doubt he’s forgotten._ I _certainly haven’t. Still, for all that, I am shocked. Vivienne and Ygraine have always been close to each other, closer than Vivienne and I ever were in our later years. I didn’t think Vivienne would betray our cousin so blatantly by seducing her husband._

 _The situation is immensely complicated, and it makes me want to wring Vivienne’s fool neck. How could she put us through this_ again? _Plus, it’s even worse this time! Vivienne swears in her letter that she’s adequately covered for the affair – short as it was, she claims – and bedded Gorlois soon enough afterward that he’ll think the child is his, but it’s not that simple. Such things don’t remain secret. Vivienne’s handmaid likely knows, since most servants make a point to know as much about their employers as possible, to better serve them. Has Vivienne accounted for that and done something to ensure the woman’s silence? Somehow, I doubt that. Minute details have always escaped her, and she’s never learned from her past mistakes._

 _Then there’s more. This child is Uther’s! Vivienne may dismiss her child as a bastard who would have no claim on Uther’s kingdom – her own words are “bastards don’t inherit kingdoms, after all” - but I know that others probably won’t see it that way. If the child’s paternity is found out, then the child could very well become the figurehead for all attempts to overthrow Uther and his legitimate bloodline. I must write to Vivienne immediately, and reiterate that_ no one _can ever know this child’s true parentage._

 _Addendum: It makes me wonder if Uther knows about the child’s true paternity. I imagine he does; he can’t be that much of a fool. It makes me wonder, though. If he viewed Vivienne’s_ first _child as a threat merely because of a few pain-induced prophecies, how might he view a child whose danger is so much more clear-cut? I don’t think my sister would be able to fake the death of another child, not when Uther will likely be scrutinizing this one so closely._

_He had no problem demanding the murder of one child, so it won’t be any more difficult to demand the death of this one._

  


They reached the city gates around dawn. Glynis stopped there, looking about, and finally shook her head. “She appears to have gone north, towards the forest, my lady, my lords,” she told them wearily. “That is all I can tell you. Her trail has been obscured and is beyond my sight now.”

Elaine and Pellinore both nodded, but their faces were positively grey with worry. “We’ll have to —” Pellinore started to say, but was cut off by a loud, high-pitched screech.

A crow appeared overhead, diving down straight for them. Arthur began to duck instinctively, but the bird merely dropped what looked like a _scroll_ of all things, and then flew off. The scroll, tiny in Elaine’s hand, was tied by a small green ribbon. Arthur watched as she untied it and unrolled the small document. She read it through and what little color she had left in her face drained away. Her blue eyes met Arthur’s, and she slowly held out the document to him.

He took it and held it up. He could feel Merlin’s presence over his right shoulder, also looking to see what it said.

 

_Elaine,_

_Give me Arthur and Merlin for your children. They are unharmed as of now, but if you refuse, I swear, I will cut both their throats._

_You have until the third afternoon bell. You will personally bring them into the forest, to the clearing half a league away from the city gates. You, and you alone. If I see anyone else, the children die._

_Morgana_

 

Arthur cursed under his breath. It didn’t surprise him that Morgana wanted him delivered up to her, he’d known that it was only a matter of time before she tried to kill him again. It had never been in her to stop once she’d set her mind to something. What caught him a little off-guard was that she was also asking specifically for Merlin. He said as much, glancing at the younger man.

Merlin sighed. “I think Morgana hates me more than she hates you, Arthur. You only sit on the throne that she is delusional enough to think is hers. Me, she blames for Morgause’s demise because I was one of those who injured her before the two of them fled Camelot.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin had never said much about what had happened in that confrontation that had ended with that entire chamber left a crumbling mess. The only other two witnesses had been similarly closed-mouthed about it. For Gaius, that wasn’t unusual, since he was notorious for keeping his mouth shut about things unless absolutely necessary. Lancelot, who could usually be prevailed upon to speak, had also determinedly kept mum about what had happened.

Still, it didn’t really matter, he supposed. The fact remained that Morgana was demanding that he and Merlin be handed over, and was holding two innocent children as leverage. It was an impossible situation. Yet, handing them over would only incite Camelot to wage war on Cornwall, which no one – save Morgana – wanted.

He turned to Elaine, who looked both furious and yet ready to weep. “Cousin, I will do whatever is necessary to help you recover the children. I have dealt with Morgana recently and her power is erratic, at best. We may be able to use that to our advantage.”

Pellinore stared at him intently. “What do you have in mind?”

In truth, Arthur had only the barest fragments of a plan in his mind. “First,” he said, “do you know of a sorcerer called Emrys?”

Both Elaine and her husband shook their heads, but Glynis, who had been silent for some time, went still and her eyes widened. “Glynis?” Arthur prodded.

The sorceress hesitated briefly, but then spoke. “Emrys is the man whose coming has been prophesized by the druids for centuries. To many people with magic, he is a bedtime story.” She gave Arthur a sharp look. “Are you saying he has come at last, Your Majesty?”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Merlin jumped in. “I’ll see if I can round up any word of him, Arthur. Some of Gaius’ contacts have traveled to Cornwall in the past.” He started to back up, going back towards the city markets. “They might have an idea if he’s been in the area.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He was beginning to fear he’d never quite understand Merlin, but now wasn’t the time to complain about it. Instead, he shoved his concerns aside and just nodded. “Go, Merlin. Hurry.”

Merlin hurried off at a run, miraculously not tripping over his own feet in his haste. Arthur turned back to Pellinore and Elaine, who were watching him with desperation in his eyes. 

The plan came tumbling out in stages as they returned to the castle. When it was finally all out, few were happy about it. Arthur and Merlin would go out to meet with Morgana, as she stipulated. They would keep her distracted for as long as possible, while the knights from both Cornwall and Camelot circled around and flanked Morgana and any followers she might have with her. They would take out as many as possible through stealth, preventing any harm from coming to the children. Once the situation was under control, they would then approach the clearing, and between all of them, they would take Morgana into custody if at all possible. 

“And this Emrys?” Pellinore asked. “What of him?”

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair wearily. “If he comes,” he replied slowly, “then I hope to prevail on him to help us with Morgana.”

The older man nodded, exchanging glances with Elaine, who had a thoughtful expression on her face. “This is probably the best plan we’ll come up with,” she said, “but one more thing.” She raised her chin almost defiantly. “I will be going with Arthur and Merlin.”

“No!” Pellinore and Arthur both shouted. 

“Elaine —”

“My lady —”

“It’s too dangerous,” Arthur said.

“I will go,” Pellinore added.

She held her ground, shaking her head. “I think Morgana will be able to see that I am not a tall warrior in chain mail, husband,” she said, a little testy. “No, I will go. She will be expecting me, and my presence will buy you and the others more time, prevent her from seeing anything amiss.”

Arthur and Pellinore tried to convince her otherwise, but Elaine refused to be moved. Finally, all that could be done was for Arthur to swear to protect her. Pellinore wasn’t pleased, was in fact furious, but had no choice but to agree.

“All right,” Arthur said at last, “now we just need —”

He was interrupted by the heavy double doors swinging open. They moved with surprising speed, quite in contrast to the seeming frailty of the figure that stood on the other side. Arthur, who had turned, gaped at the new arrival.

A thin man, bent and white haired with age, and yet one who moved with surprising grace. Arthur had only seen the man on two separate occasions, on two terrible days, and yet he was certain he would never forget him. 

The old man came to a halt a few feet from the three of them and gazed at them avidly. “I’m told you need assistance? Problems with the witch?” he inquired.

Arthur nodded, and his eyes shifted past Emrys’ shoulder. “Where is Merlin?”

“Hmm? Oh, him. I sent him to rally any druids he might find nearby. They’re best able to deal with someone as damaged as Morgana.”

“What?!” Arthur exclaimed. “We need him here! Morgana has demanded —”

“— both of you so she can kill you and avenge whatever wrongs you’ve done to her,” Emrys interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before. I’ll stand in for him. Morgana won’t know the difference until we’re on top of her.”

Arthur wanted to protest, wanted to demand that Merlin return right this instant, but instead forcibly kept the words locked behind his teeth. They had to focus on the here and now if they were to succeed.

Only the gods didn’t appear to want to make things even remotely easy for them, because at that moment, someone else stumbled into the room. It took Arthur a moment, but he recognized the woman as Princess Vevay’s nurse. “My lady,” the woman said, her hair mused and her dress askew, “Her Highness – she’s gone!”

“What?!” Elaine had spent the past several hours under constant stress, and now had to face yet another crisis. “How? What happened?”

It appeared that Vevay had somehow gotten a hold of one of the mild sleeping potions that she was occasionally given to help her rest, and had put a few drops into the goblets belonging to her nurse and servant. They’d only just woken up, and the nurse had even heard on her way there that there was a horse missing from the stables.

“There’s no way she could have gotten out of the city,” Pellinore said. “Every exit is guarded and shut down. She’ll not be far.”

Elaine rubbed her forehead wearily and sighed. After a moment’s contemplation, she said, “We will focus on my children. My mother will have to wait. Hopefully she won’t do any lasting harm to herself in the meantime.”

No one argued with her.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_Oh, wondrous news! I haven’t said anything about it for fear of being wrong, but I just had myself examined by a physician and had it confirmed. I am with child! I’m going to have a baby of my own!_

_This news is thrilling! After nearly four years of marriage and no signs of a child, I was beginning to fear that I might be barren, but now I need not worry about such a possibility. There is a child in my belly! The physician has given me a list of things to do and to avoid, and has also offered to put me in contact with a well-informed, successful midwife of his acquaintance._

_I told Tristan immediately after the physician left, and he was overjoyed. He has done so much to restore Cornwall’s military prestige, and our cadres of knights are rapidly showing themselves to be the best in all of Albion, and he is looking forward to focusing some of that energy on our child, be it girl or boy._

_This, of course, means that I will not be able to travel to Camelot to be with Vivienne for the birth of her child as I had planned to do, so I shall have to write to her and convey my news and my apologies. Ygraine will be with her, though I am not sure how much of a comfort that will be to my sister, since their friendship has been strained of late. Vivienne doesn’t think that Ygraine knows of her and Uther’s affair, but she has admitted in recent letters that she does feel some measure of guilt for sleeping with our cousin’s husband._

_Which is more than she ever felt for sleeping with Tristan after he and I were promised to each other._

_Oh, but I cannot be bitter today! Not after such news! I am going to be a mother!_

  


By the second afternoon bell, a veritable army of stable-hands brought around a corresponding number of horses. The knights of both kingdoms were making last-minute alterations to their saddles, their minds focused on the task that lay ahead of them in the next few hours. 

Three horses had been led to an area slightly apart from the rest, two of which were Arthur’s own horse and Merlin’s. The third, a gentle grey mare, was likely Elaine’s, Arthur presumed. He kept his attention on his own mount, doing his best to studiously ignore the hushed, fevered words passing between his cousin and her husband. He only allowed himself to look up when he noticed Pellinore lifting Elaine up into her saddle – she was riding side-saddle, which Arthur assumed was to minimize the jarring of Elaine’s body, and thus hopefully not cause too much disruption for the babe in her belly.

He was subsequently distracted by a series of grumbled curses, and Arthur turned toward Merlin’s horse. Emrys was having some problems mounting the animal, and Arthur instinctively stepped forward. Merlin’s horse was temperamental to just about anyone but Merlin, snapping at anyone else who came too close. The animal had even bitten Arthur at one point. However, he stopped in his tracks when he saw that the horse wasn’t shying away from the old sorcerer, but was in fact standing still with surprisingly good grace while Emrys clawed his way up. 

That was… interesting, to say the least. 

Shrugging off the strange occurrence, Arthur turned back to his own horse and mounted it with ease. He maneuvered his horse to flank Elaine’s, and allowed her to lead the way out. The knights were also mounting as they left, though Arthur knew they wouldn’t be following. Instead, Pellinore would lead them out one of the less noticeable exits of the city and circle around, just as planned.

The ride through the city was silent, and the three of them – Emrys had led Merlin’s horse to ride alongside Arthur’s – were the subject of many stares from the people they passed. Word had no doubt leaked out as to what had happened. A murder and the kidnapping of their regent’s children – it would have been impossible to keep such happenings out of the public conscious. 

Eventually, though, they passed out of Tintagel and began moving along the road away from the coast. Elaine still did not begin any conversation and Arthur was loath to disturb her when she seemed so deep in thought.

That left Emrys, who had also been quiet for some time. He was staring straight ahead as his horse bore him forward, his eyes sweeping the land in front of them. “So,” Arthur said before he could talk himself out of it, “it’s rather providential that you’re here in Cornwall.”

The old man glanced in his direction. “I go where I’m needed,” he replied shortly.

Arthur nodded as though it was far more profound. “My sister mentioned you when I confronted her in Camelot,” he continued. “She seems under the impression that… you are protecting me.”

Again, the older man didn’t appear inclined to be overly elaborate in his responses. “Why would I protect a man who has tried to kill me and has had a bounty on my head for the past nine months?”

Arthur flinched inwardly. Gaius had told him that Emrys wasn’t responsible for his father’s death, that his injuries had just been too severe, even for magic. Arthur had been certain that there was more to the story, more than Gaius was telling him, and that thought had so consumed him that he’d never rescinded the bounty that had been posted in the days after his father’s death and Arthur’s coronation. “I,” he started, paused, and then forced himself to continue, “I’m sorry. I’ve known for some time that you were not responsible for the loss of my father. Such a lapse is inexcusable. If it means anything, I swear I will cancel the bounty on my return home.”

Now Emrys turned to look at him. His eyes, sharp and aware and _strangely familiar_ despite the deep age lines surrounding him, were like knives, sinking into Arthur’s very being, but he forced himself not to look away. He knew a test when he saw one.

Finally, the older man smiled slightly and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’m quite capable of defending myself from greedy fools, though I suppose it would be nice to not have to deal with them at all. Thank you, Sire.”

Silence fell for a short time after that, filled only by the grinding of earth beneath the hooves of their horses. Arthur continued to glance at his companion, something else still gnawing at him. “I also feel I should apologize for how I behaved when my father… died.” It was difficult, even now, to recall those minutes in his father’s chamber. “I wanted magic to save my father, and then behaved abominably when it did not give me what I desired.”

“That is why magic should be used with the utmost care,” Emrys responded, his voice becoming uncharacteristically gentle. “It is a powerful force, but its use can have unintended consequences. I attempted to use magic to heal your father without knowing all of the facts, allowing my desire for a world without persecution to cloud my judgment.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Facts?”

The older man nodded. “Yes. I learned later that a pendant had been planted on your father’s body, a pendent that had been enchanted to take any magic performed on its wearer and twist its intentions. When I attempted to heal your father…”

“… it killed him instead,” Arthur finished, horrified. He opened his mouth to demand who had done this despicable thing, but the answer came to him so easily that he said nothing. _Agravaine. Morgana._

It seemed that the crime of patricide could be added to the list of crimes perpetuated by his half-sister, even if she was aided by his uncle. 

“Yes,” Emrys confirmed, unaware of the thoughts running through Arthur’s mind. He hesitated a moment, clearly considering whether to continue, but then spoke again. “I should also apologize to you, Sire, for my part in what happened. I was wrong to have made my help conditional on you repealing the laws against magic. You should see for yourself that magic is not evil, not extorted into restoring it. I’m sorry.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully and let the silence fall over them again. His world had become immeasurably complicated over the years and although not all of it could be laid at magic’s door, enough of it could. He would have to consider again what Emrys had wanted of him, and do it with a much clearer head than he had the last time. Back then, he had been desperate to preserve his father’s life, to give himself more time with a father who, if Arthur was honest with himself, had been dying a long, drawn out death ever since Morgause had plucked the crown from his head. Now, he was in a position to reflect on the matter more impartially.

It wasn’t going to happen now, however. Their party of three had at last reached the forest, and the last leg of their journey was coming to an end. As they approached the clearing Morgana had specified, the sound of raised voices caught their attention.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_An express rider arrived from Camelot, bearing letters, including one from Ygraine. Vivienne gave birth three weeks ago on what the farmers were calling the first day of spring - another girl, who she has named Morgana._

_The birth was difficult, much more than the first one, Ygraine informed me. The midwives have even admitted that it’s unlikely that Vivienne will ever bear any more children. She also informed me that Vivienne again experienced several visions throughout the pregnancy and during the birth itself, although they were much less pronounced this time. According to Ygraine, Vivienne just kept whispering that they were wrong about something or someone, that it was the ‘wrong one’, which just served to confuse everyone. Still, for all that this child will be her only one, Ygraine writes that Vivienne is doting on Morgana, and that it seems to have eased some of the constant tension between her and Gorlois, since he too adores the baby girl._

_Ygraine said nothing of Uther’s reaction to the baby, for which I wasn’t sure to be concerned or grateful. I also could detect something of a strangled envy and sadness in the letter. Ygraine has yet to have any sign of being pregnant after nearly five years of marriage, and watching one cousin have a baby and hearing of another’s pregnancy doesn’t seem to have been easy for her._

_My poor cousin. I hope the gods will be good to her and give her what she longs for._

* * *

The three reined in their horses, and Arthur quietly dismounted. He opened his mouth to tell Emrys and Elaine to wait with their mounts while he scouted out what lay ahead, but before he could say a word, Emrys was off his horse – with considerably more grace than when he had gotten on the animal – and hurrying over to Elaine. The old man held out his hands to her and helped ease her down onto the ground. Arthur sighed quietly, resigning himself to them accompanying him in a potentially dangerous situation – he just hoped Pellinore didn’t discover it.

They crept forward, Arthur in the lead and with his sword drawn. They kept as low to the ground as they could, using the foliage of the forest to mask their presence. He was actually quite surprised at how quietly his companions were able to move – an old man and a pregnant woman could hardly be considered the most agile of people. Yet, they did so. Perhaps it was just because Arthur was used to being accompanied by Merlin, who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘stealth’. 

When they finally reached the edge of the clearing, Arthur came to a stop, peering through the leaves of a thick set of bushes. He scarcely noticed Elaine and Emrys coming up beside him to also see what lay in front of them.

The clearing was fairly large, several yards in diameter. There was a dark spot of soot and ash in the center, indicating there had been a fire, and one of some size too. There was a single horse, as well as two silent, black-clad men on the opposite side of the clearing, but it was the two women that caught his attention.

Morgana was there, clad in the rough, homespun dress and overcoat that seemed to have become her clothing of choice in recent years. If anything, though, she appeared even more ragged and wild than she had in the council chamber of Camelot. Her hair was a nest of tangles and tattered black and green ribbons, and her green eyes had a strange, feral gleam to them, one he had never seen before, not even when they stood but inches from one another in Camelot. 

Equally shocking was the other person present in the clearing. Princess Vevay was clad in the same dress he’d seen her wearing yesterday, though it appeared rather rumpled and dirt-stained. Her grey hair fell loose down her back, still thick despite her age, down past her hips. 

“… return my grandchildren, at once!” Vevay was saying, her voice full of venom.

Morgana shook her head. “I’ll return them when your daughter hands me Arthur and Merlin, and not a moment before,” she replied, her hands twitching along the lines of her dust-coated skirt. Her eyes repeatedly swept the clearing, but she didn’t seem to have been alerted to Arthur’s and his companions’ presence. “Once I cut their throats, I can claim my rightful inheritance,” she muttered, more to herself than to Vevay. “There won’t be anyone left to rally the foolish commoners against me as they did before.”

Her rambling may have been soft-spoken, but Arthur heard her clearly enough, to say nothing of Vevay. The older woman’s expression flushed with anger. “By what right do you claim Camelot as your rightful inheritance, child?” she demanded.

Morgana blinked, clearly surprised to be asked such a question. “I am Uther’s firstborn, his eldest child —”

“You are the bastard daughter of two people who could not control their basest urges,” Vevay snapped, cutting her off. Arthur was amazed, both at how coherent she sounded and at her words. He’d never known anyone who would have dared speak so to Morgana, not if they didn’t want to receive a harsh slap to the face for it. At the very least.

“Much as I loved my sister,” the older woman continued, “Vivienne had a voracious sexual appetite that resulted in the conception of two girls by two different men, neither of which were her husband.” Her eyes were dark and firm. “Bastards don’t inherit kingdoms, Morgana, especially when they have half-brothers born in wedlock and are officially proclaimed heir.”

Arthur didn’t know who to stare at more, Vevay for actually having the courage to say all of this to Morgana’s face, or Morgana to try and predict when she would lose complete control of herself. Given the way her clenched fists were shaking at her sides, he didn’t think it would be long. 

Vevay didn’t appear to notice, because she kept right on speaking. “If you had kept your mouth shut about the truth of your parentage, you would have stood to inherit Gorlois’ lands and wealth, which I believe were sizable.” She shook her head. “But by revealing yourself as Uther’s child, you wrecked any claim you could have made to any of that.” An expression that was both grim and bitter crossed her face. “Clearly, Morgause did nothing but fill your head with delusions of grandeur. Perhaps it was for the best that you killed her. The priestesses ruined her, just as I knew they would.”

Arthur couldn’t help but cringe. Was Vevay actually _asking_ for death?!

“ _I didn’t kill Morgause!_ ” Morgana’s voice was shrill.

Perhaps Vevay would have continued to argue with her, but didn’t get a chance. Much to Arthur’s shock, Elaine pushed herself to her feet using both him and Emrys’ shoulders to bolster herself, and stormed through the brush. “That isn’t what you told me, Morgana,” she snarled. 

Both Vevay and Morgana whirled to face her, their eyes wide with astonishment. Neither of them looked past her, so Arthur was fairly certain that their surprise had made Morgana forget that he and Merlin were supposed to be accompanying Elaine.

“You stabbed her on the Isle of the Blessed,” Elaine continued, her tone full of fury. “You used her blood as a sacrifice to open the veil between worlds, to avenge your wounded vanity. You killed Morgause, and it was all for _nothing_!” The last word left Elaine’s mouth in a shout.

“It was _Merlin_!” Morgana’s voice was just as loud. “He hurt her so badly that she was dying! He —”

“It was a battle, Morgana,” Elaine interrupted again, sounding somewhat calmer now, colder. “Merlin defended himself and those around him. Morgause sought to kill him. What was he supposed to do? Stand there and _let_ her? Is his life so worthless that he should just give it up simply because it’s convenient for you?” There was a brief pause, and then she added in a harsh whisper, “He didn’t kill our sister. _You_ did.”

The sharp, high-pitched scream that tore itself free from Morgana’s throat rang in Arthur’s ears. Before he could react, a knife appeared in Morgana’s hand. For one horrible moment, he thought she was going to rush at Elaine, hacking and stabbing, but when she raised her arm, he realized that it was much worse. 

He struggled to his feet, Emrys also rising next to him.

The knife flew from Morgana’s hand, straight at Elaine.

Arthur and Emrys burst into the clearing, but they were too slow, much too slow. They’d never reach Elaine in time.

They’d forgotten about Vevay, though. She moved with a speed that belied her age, throwing herself against her daughter. The impact was enough to knock Elaine out of the knife’s path, but not enough to get Vevay clear.

The knife sank into soft flesh. There was no scream, only a grunt. 

Arthur kept moving, his momentum carrying him forward. The two guards, who had been forgotten in the chaos, suddenly appeared, their own swords drawn as they approached Arthur. Arthur’s own sword was up and prepared to meet his opponents’ blows, almost of its own volition. Not for the first time, part of him marveled at this sword that had come from the stone, mired deep in myth and legend. It felt like it had been made especially for him, had been forged with his very being in mind. The steel seemed to sing as it parried the blades of the two men, and Arthur surged forward, confident in his skills as well as the sword. He caught one of the men in the stomach, slicing it open, and the other in the head, smashing the pommel into his skull. 

Even as his opponents fell, defeated, Arthur didn’t let his guard down. Morgana was still present, and she was infinitely more of a threat than two men with swords, however skilled they might be. He whirled, his sword still held at the ready —

— and froze. Arthur had lost track of Emrys when he had focused on the guards, but clearly the old man had not been idle. His hand was outstretched, and he had a fierce, deadly expression on his bearded face as he glared across the clearing. Arthur followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped. Morgana also stood there, in much the same position with her hand thrown out in Emrys’ direction. Her own expression was a myriad of different emotions – fear, rage, shock, just to name a few. There were no sparks, no grand display of magic between them as there had been when Glynis had used her own power, but Arthur could still almost _feel_ the extreme pressure being exerted between their two hands. He had no doubt that the loser of such a battle of wills and power would feel that crushing weight.

“Why do you continue to plague me, Emrys?” Morgana hissed.

“Because you clearly need plagued,” he snarled right back. “You kidnapped two innocent children, Morgana! You —”

It happened quickly, but Arthur still saw it coming. While Morgana kept one hand pointed at Emrys, she raised the other in a violent jerk. Instantly, a fallen tree stump rose into the air and shot toward the old man. Arthur opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before a single sound could leave his mouth, Emrys bellowed something. It was some kind of spell, something destructive, because a bolt of light raced out of the old man’s other hand and met the stump head-on. 

The resulting explosion both blinded Arthur for several seconds as well as knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, but didn’t feel anything in his body give in the face of the impact. Despite being stunned, Arthur forced himself to sit up as quickly as possible, blinking rapidly to clear his vision of the spots that clouded it. He looked for Emrys first, and saw him lying several feet away, his hand rubbing his head as he shook it blearily. Arthur thought he looked all right, if shaken. 

Satisfied, Arthur began to examine the rest of the immediate area. There, some distance away and slumped at the base of a thick tree, was Morgana. The explosion, either by accident or by design, had been closer to her than to him and Emrys. She was barely conscious, if at all.

As Arthur slowly realized that the situation was secure, he began to relax. It was then that another sound began to penetrate his mind – the sound of weeping. 

_Elaine. Vevay._

He turned quickly, and found them where Elaine had been standing during her confrontation with Morgana – had that really only been moments ago? They were on the ground, Elaine cradling Vevay against her. As Arthur stared at them, he began to register the blood pouring out around the imbedded knife stuck in Vevay’s chest. There was also a faint spray of crimson coming from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. The blade must have penetrated one of her lungs, Arthur realized, a sick feeling crawling into his gut.

These were mortal wounds. Even if they could get Vevay to a healer or physician right now, there would be little for them to do. She was beyond help.

Tears trailed down Elaine’s cheeks as she held onto her mother tightly. “Mother,” she sobbed, holding her close. She attempted to speak further, but her grief appeared to have closed her throat against speech.

Vevay’s eyes were growing dimmer, but she seemed to be focusing every bit of concentration that she had left on the face of her daughter. She raised a trembling, bloodstained hand up to Elaine’s face, her fingers trailing along her cheek and leaving a streak of red in their wake. “My… girl,” she wheezed.

An endless moment, and Vevay’s eyes drifted closed. 

Her hand dropped to the ground beside her.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_It is just my luck that my child would come right in the middle of the harvest, one of the busiest times of the year, but I find that I don’t really mind. My daughter has arrived, my Elaine. Many people say that newborns are ugly when they first arrive, and their features smooth out later and become pretty, but I don’t agree. Elaine is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen._

_Tristan, I think, agrees with me. As I write this, he is sitting by our daughter’s cradle, cooing and playing with her. He has sent the nurses out, leaving us alone, our little family. He isn’t disappointed at all that Elaine isn’t a son, since most men usually prefer boys to girls, but is instead worshipping her._

_My girl. She is so beautiful._

_Life, I believe, is never going to be any more wonderful than this, being alone and content with my husband and child, enjoying each other’s company and taking a moment to block out the cares that await us all outside the door. Tristan won’t be able to stay with us long, since he is overseeing the harvest in my place. My lords grumbled a bit, as they usually prefer to deal with me, their true ruler, rather than my consort, but I think they will keep their mouths shut for now. They have experience dealing with their wives after childbirth, and no one wants to antagonize a woman after she has just gone through such a trial._

_It may be selfish of me, but I wish Tristan and I could have more time like this, where we have only to content ourselves with each other and our daughter, where we don’t have to worry about the outside world._

_It’s not just here in Cornwall that matters demand our constant attention, either. News is pouring in from Camelot, where things are growing more and more unstable. The lack of an heir is making people bold in challenging Uther and his authority. Some of his lords have even grown a bit obstinate, but the chief problem is coming from those who use magic. Magicians are causing problems, tormenting the neighbors they feud with, cheating at the gaming tables in the taverns and causing brawls in the streets, and all the like. Uther’s knights are being run ragged trying to quell the problems._

  


Elaine continued to cry, burying her face in her mother’s hair for several moments. Sheathing his sword, Arthur slowly knelt down beside his cousin and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He had never known his mother, but he had still mourned her. How much worse must it be for Elaine, who had known her mother all her life and had known what it was to be treasured by that woman? 

After several silent minutes, Elaine finally looked up. Her cheeks were stained with her tears and her eyes were red and bloodshot. Nonetheless, she still allowed Arthur to help her lay Vevay down on the ground. Once the princess was laid out, Arthur stood up and unclipped his cape. He then carefully draped it over Vevay’s body, and had covered her just as there was a commotion on the other side of the clearing, the sound of several sets of boots tramping through the undergrowth. 

Arthur turned and placed himself between the others and the approaching group, unsheathing his sword once more. If Morgana had reinforcements, then it would be him – and possibly Emrys – against an unknown number of assailants and —

A flash of blue caught his eye just before several of Cornwall’s knights crashed through the brush, their own swords drawn and held ready. When they saw Arthur, they lowered their swords and stepped aside, allowing those behind them to also enter the clearing. As Arthur placed his own sword back in its sheath, he also breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Cador, Samuel, Leon, and Gwaine appear with the others. Then, just behind them, came Pellinore, who held Marcus tightly by the hand while carrying Aileen on his other arm. Both children were a bit dusty and dirt-stained, but appeared unharmed. Aileen had also been crying recently, and seemed determined to cling to her father at all costs.

Arthur watched as Marcus’ eyes swept the immediate area, and then widened. “Mother!” 

Pellinore’s eyes grew huge as well as he spotted his wife. “Elaine!” He hurried forward, sweeping past Arthur without so much as a glance in his direction. Arthur turned and really paused to look at his cousin. Her hair was askew, and her dress was covered in blood. Small wonder they were so alarmed.

“I-I’m all right,” Elaine assured them, her voice still shaking. Marcus pressed himself against her, wrapping an arm around her waist and encouraging her to lean on him. “It’s not my blood,” she murmured and her eyes drifted down to the ground where Arthur’s cape covered her mother’s body.

The knights of Cornwall spread throughout the clearing, obviously intent on securing the immediate area. Arthur’s own knights took that moment to approach him. “What happened here, Arthur?” Gwaine asked, his voice low, his eyes darting toward the covered figure on the ground. “Who is that?”

Arthur sighed. “Princess Vevay,” he responded, pitching his voice low so that they’re not overheard. He quietly explained the reasons for the princess’ unexpected presence, until his eyes caught sight of another disturbance near the tree where Morgana still lay. A group of four cloaked figures appeared and were speaking with Emrys and two of the Cornwall knights, one of which was Bedwyr. Glancing in the direction of Elaine, Arthur saw that she too had noticed their presence. She started toward them, still holding onto Marcus with one hand and Pellinore and Aileen with the other. Arthur followed them.

As they all approached, the four individuals reached up almost as one and lowered their hoods. There were three men, one woman, all exuding a strange quiet peace that was distinctly at odds with the atmosphere of rage and violence and death that lingered over the clearing. 

It was the Druids, the ones Emrys sent Merlin to find. Merlin.

“Where’s Merlin?” The words slipped out of his mouth before Arthur could stop him.

The leader of the four stared at him intently, and Arthur realized that he recognized him. They had met before, first when he had returned the little Druid boy to his people, and then when he, Gwaine, and Merlin had sought the Cup of Life and Arthur had held his sword to another child’s throat. Not one of his best moments, and one he had been heartily ashamed of in the aftermath. 

As though sensing his thoughts, the leader bowed his head in his direction. _Greetings, Arthur Pendragon._ The words echoed in Arthur’s mind, and he struggled not to flinch. There was no anger, no resentment in the tone, no disapproval over past actions. It was humbling and troubling at the same time. 

The leader turned his attention to Elaine and bowed to her as well, introducing himself as Iseldir. “We came at Emrys’ request,” he added, glancing at the old man. Arthur glanced between Iseldir and his companions and Emrys. He wasn’t entirely certain, but it seemed to him that the Druids were _amused_ by the old man’s presence, if the faint smiles, smirks even, that crossed their lips. Emrys, for his part, noticed their enjoyment and was glaring at them, almost _pouting_ of all things.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_Word from Camelot. Vivienne is dead._

_Addendum: I am calmer now, though only just barely._

_Vivienne’s body never fully recovered from Morgana’s birth two years ago, and her health has been in a steady decline since then, though she made the most of her time by lavishing love and affection on her daughter. According to the letter from Gorlois, she went to sleep one night, now a fortnight past, and just didn’t wake up, though she didn’t expire immediately._

_Gorlois also admitted to me in the letter that while he and Vivienne’s relationship had never been easy, he still mourns her death. She was a devoted mother to Morgana, and nothing can replace what his daughter has lost, even if he should one day remarry, though he currently has no plans to do so._

_He also mentioned in his letter that Vivienne kept murmuring about how they’d been wrong, that they had focused on the wrong child, but wrote it off as fevered ramblings._

_The wrong child. Does she mean Morgause? What were we wrong about?_

_Oh, Vivienne, my sweet, headstrong sister._

_Damn, Uther. He put the child in her belly that ultimately killed her. My sister’s blood is on his hands, and he cannot even be bothered to write some kind of condolence to me of her death? Insensitive, cruel man._

  


“How may we be of service?” one of the other Druids asked, finally breaking the small standoff.

Emrys straightened, and then gestured at the crumpled form of Morgana, who still remained insensible. Arthur watched and saw their eyes widen briefly as they saw her. “You captured her?” Iseldir murmured. 

“Yes,” Emrys said, his tone abrupt. “We hoped we would, given her crimes against Cornwall and Camelot both. And yet, we have little hope of restraining her. I cannot remain with her at all times to keep her confined.”

The female Druid tilted her head, giving him a look. “And you would ask us to do so? We are not jailers, Emrys,” she said, sounding as though she was scolding him.

He shook his head. “No, that isn’t what I was hoping for,” he assured her hastily. “I…” he sighed, and every one of his many years seemed to land on his shoulders, weighing him down. “She has made so many horrible, unforgivable choices, and she is responsible for them, but I… I helped to push her onto this path in the first place. I should have done more to help her. By leaving her to fend for herself, to live in terror of what Uther would do to her if he should discover what she was and what she could do, I left her open to the manipulation of someone as ruthless, as bitter, as _vengeful_ as Morgause.” He stared at the female Druid, his eyes bleak. “What evil she has done can be laid at my feet as much as hers.”

Arthur could only stare, barely able to comprehend what he was hearing. Emrys blamed himself for Morgana’s behavior? “No,” he said, almost before he could think about it. Both the female Druid and Emrys turned to him, surprise flitting across both their features. “Morgana made her own choices. She and I have known each other our entire lives. She could have come to me, and I would have done whatever was necessary to help her, and would never have let my… _our_ father harm her. She was always… impatient, unwilling to believe that anyone knew better than her. It is not…” Arthur trailed off, shaking his head. “She walked this path of her own free will,” was all he could say.

Emrys stared at him intently for several moments, and then nodded slowly. Arthur didn’t know if he had convinced the other man of his argument, but at the moment, those were the only words he had to give. Finally, the old man turned to the Druids. “I wished to ask if there is anyone among your order who might be able to help her? Her actions have been increasingly erratic since the death of Morgause. I… Perhaps someone could help her regain control of herself? To become something of the good woman she used to be?”

None of the Druids responded at first. Finally, Iseldir admitted, “There are a few healers left who might be able to render some assistance to the Lady Morgana, but it is not as simple as that.” He turned toward Elaine and her family. “The Lady Morgana has just killed the Princess of Cornwall, tried to kill the Lady-Regent, and kidnapped the Lady-Regent’s children. These are all significant crimes, and our people have no wish to antagonize Cornwall by placing the lady under our protection.” Iseldir paused, giving Arthur a pointed look before saying, “We already face the persecution of Camelot and many of the other kingdoms. Adding Cornwall to that list would be devastating to our people.”

Arthur flinched. Yet something else that had fallen through the cracks in the past several weeks. He had sworn that the persecution of the Druids would end, and while no Druids had been captured since then and brought before him, he had done little to keep that oath.

Elaine was silent for several moments, her expression thoughtful and then said, “The Druids will face no reparations from Cornwall if they decide to treat the Lady Morgana. All I ask is that she be taken out of the kingdom.” She stared down at Morgana’s unconscious form. “Our mutual sister was banished for her crimes against us and forbidden to return, and so too shall Morgana face the same punishment. She must never return here, and will face death if she does. See to it that she understands that.”

The four Druids exchanged significant looks and then nodded. “We shall have her out of Cornwall within two days,” the female Druid promised.

And just like that, it was done. The Druids prepared Morgana’s unconscious form for travel while several of the knights vanished, only to return a short while later with the horses from both parties. Elaine was helped onto her horse, and Aileen was handed up to her and rode in front of her mother. Marcus and Pellinore faced a similar arrangement. None of them seemed unhappy about it, though.

Arthur mounted his own horse and turned to Emrys, expecting to see him struggling to get onto his own mount, and was surprised to see him only standing a small distance away, speaking with Iseldir. Neither was making any effort to lower their voices, so Arthur felt no shame by listening quietly.

“… healing magic on her already,” the Druid leader was saying. “But it is skewed, wrongly done. Whoever healed her had the raw magic for it, but not the knowledge to wield it properly.”

“I see.”

“Emrys,” Iseldir said, his expression as serious as Arthur had ever seen it, “the magic is not that of humans.” He gave him a pointed nod. “There are only _two_ beings that can wield this kind of magic.”

Arthur had no idea what they were talking about, but he saw Emrys go still. After several moments, he murmured, “The elder one has encouraged me more than once over the years to kill her, or let her die. He would not heal her of his own free will, and I am the only one who could command him to do so.”

“Then the younger one?” The Druid’s tone had an inflection of worry in it.

“Perhaps,” Emrys allowed. “I will have to speak to them soon.”

Iseldir nodded. “That would be wise. It would not bode well for anyone if one of them decided to go against you.”

Arthur was confused. Who were the two men referring to? Another threat, one that could conceivably aid Morgana in her attempts to conquer Camelot and possibly burn all of Albion to the ground? Perhaps he should break into the conversation, no matter how rude it would be, and demand answers.

Before he could, though, he suddenly found Emrys in front of him, his hand absently rubbing the nose of Arthur’s horse. “Here we must part ways, Your Majesty,” the old man said. “I have a great deal to do elsewhere.”  
Arthur nodded, his mind still full of questions. “I see,” he said slowly. “Will we ever meet again?”

Emrys smiled faintly. “Oh, I imagine so,” he replied. “Your servant will undoubtedly rejoin you somewhere along the journey back.” His smile faded and he adopted a much more serious expression. “He would do anything for you, Sire. Has done everything for you. I pray you will remember that in the future.”

Before Arthur could even begin to think of a response to such a strange statement, the old man whirled and walked briskly into the foliage. Arthur could hear him muttering and chuckling to himself as he walked, behaving like a demented old fool.

Layers on top of layers. Complexity beneath a veneer of simplicity.

Like Merlin, if Arthur was honest with himself.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_Elaine’s fourth name day celebration is today. For the past week, gifts from my lords have been arriving, leaving the servants scrambling to keep them hidden until today. Elaine, my clever girl, knows that we’re all keeping secrets from us and has been scouring the castle for answers._

_I don’t think I’ve ever felt Tintagel feel so festive. I certainly don’t remember it ever being so when I was a child. But Elaine’s birthday combined with my own new pregnancy and the news that Ygraine is finally pregnant – Tristan brought that news when he returned from visiting Camelot, though he seemed troubled about the subject – has made for a very happy atmosphere here at home._

_Addendum: I look at what I wrote above this, and curse my stupidity for tempting the gods to take away what I gloated about. _

_Elaine’s birthday feast – very much scaled down to be fit for a little girl of four and a host of children from the city, the servants’ children, and some of the noble children that were visiting with their parents – was almost at an end when we had an unexpected arrival._

_A priestess of the Old Religion had come to call upon us, and she came hand in hand with a young girl as fair-haired as Elaine, but with dark eyes while my daughter’s are blue. How strange, Morgause’s eyes. Tristan’s are blue, while Vivienne’s were grey. I cannot remember the colors of my parents’ eyes, but can only assume that she inherited such a color from one of them, since Aglovale and Ygrisa both had blue eyes as well._

_The priestess, a woman called Lisanor, is Morgause’s guardian among their order, and she felt that it was appropriate that my niece be at least somewhat acquainted with the family that bore her. Now that Vivienne is gone, Tristan is her sole remaining parent, and Elaine is her half-sister. She has me, her aunt, of course, but I could not hope to replace what she lost when Vivienne sent her away. Morgana, her other half-sister, is deep within Camelot and near the watchful eyes of Uther, where Morgause dares not show her face for the time being._

_Looking at my sister’s firstborn, who looks more like Tristan than anyone else, what could I do but agree to Lisanor’s request? Still, I cannot help but feel uncertain about the girl – there is something intense, something… strange about her. Ruthless, driven. And she’s barely a girl of nine._

_Of course, Elaine knows nothing of this. She knows only that a pretty older girl has come to play with her, and she is enthralled with her. It’s actually a little sweet, since Morgause seems inclined to indulge her sister-cousin._

  


With nothing more to do but to return to Tintagel, Arthur offered the use of Merlin’s horse in order to transport Vevay’s body, which was quietly accepted. The knights of Cornwall were careful to keep the dead princess’ body wrapped in his cape, keeping her completely covered and out of sight of the children, who still clung to their parents with single-minded determination, their eyes bright with fear.

Arthur’s own knights flanked him as the large group began its journey back through the forest. It would take time to reach Tintagel, as they were proceeding slowly in deference to Elaine’s delicate health, but he estimated that they would reach the city well before nightfall. 

The first leg of the journey was spent in relative silence, and was interrupted only when they heard the sound of someone tramping through the undergrowth. The knights of Cornwall pressed in on their royal family protectively, but when Merlin tripped out of the brush to land on his knees in front of them, everyone relaxed.

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. “There you are!” Relief shot through him. For all of Emrys’ assurances, Arthur hadn’t been entirely at ease until he saw his friend with his own eyes. The last time they had been separated under such chaotic conditions, Merlin had been kidnapped by bandits that had, upon reflection, quite possibly been in the employ of Agravaine and Morgana. That he was here, unharmed and as clumsy as ever, soothed Arthur like nothing else.

“Yes, Sire, I’m here,” Merlin replied as he pushed himself to his feet. He nodded toward Elaine and her family, but then focused on Arthur. “Were the Druids able to help?” he asked.

Arthur nodded. “They’re taking Morgana with them,” he said simply. He would explain everything in more detail later, when they were back in Tintagel. The thought made him glance around. The others were resuming their journey, leaving Arthur and his knights behind, and there was no horse for Merlin, since his was bearing Vevay’s body.

Turning back to Merlin, he gestured him forward. “Come on,” he ordered. “Get up behind me.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t argue with him. Arthur leaned down and allowed the other man to grasp his arm to hoist himself up onto the horse. Once Merlin was settled, Arthur nudged the animal forward. 

Upon their return to the castle, Elaine and both of her children were immediately whisked off by fussing maidservants for baths and examination by the court physicians. Given Elaine’s pregnancy and the horrors she had witnessed today, Arthur didn’t blame them for being concerned for her health, or for that of her children. 

Pellinore approached him as everyone else began to wander off to their own chambers to clean themselves up. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice weary, “I must thank you for your help today. If —”

Arthur held up his hand. “You owe me nothing, my lord. I am just grateful that I was able to be of assistance.” He felt contrition well up in him. “It was my sister who has wrought such pain on your lives, so it was only right that I attempt to help rectify the situation.”

Pellinore shook his head. “None of this is your fault. In truth, we should have expected something like this to happen. Morgana had been pushing Elaine to stand against Camelot just as Morgause had. It was only a matter of time before Elaine’s constant refusals would have incited Morgana to take more desperate measures.” He sighed, running his hand through his dark curls tiredly. “There will be much to do in the coming days – my mother-in-law’s funeral rites, Elaine’s coronation. I know my lady would have you know that you are free to remain as our guest to observe, if you wish.”

Arthur nodded, considering the idea. He could easily send word to Camelot of what was happening here and let them know that he would be remaining to see the approaching ceremonies. He wasn’t expected home for some time anyway, and with Morgana now in the care of the Druids, the biggest threat to Camelot’s security had been dealt with.

“I would be honored to stay.”

  


_**Tintagel** _

_Gods, what is happening to us? Word has arrived from Camelot – Ygraine is dead from childbirth, having given birth to a son, Arthur. Uther’s letter is full of mad ramblings, accusations of magic being the cause, that Nimueh murdered her. The letter was so nonsensical that I asked Tristan what was talking about, this nonsense about Nimueh. Tristan, however, was so furious that he could barely answer me. Hearing of Ygraine’s death seems to have driven him as mad as Uther, and he spat out a short explanation that horrified me._

_It seems that Uther had lost faith that Ygraine would ever have a child of her own, so he sent his physician, Gaius, to seek the aid of the priestesses. Gaius brought Nimueh, who is now a full-fledged member of that order, to court to discuss the possibility of using magic to facilitate a pregnancy for Ygraine. Tristan was there during the discussions, and heard Nimueh warn Uther that there would be a price to pay. Uther had sworn that he would pay any price that was deemed necessary, but he_ needed _a lawful heir._

_It seems he has one, now, but the price was the life of his queen. Only now Uther is claiming that Nimueh deliberately killed Ygraine as an act of spite._

_Then, as if all of this wasn’t horrible enough, there are the additional reports that are coming from my people in Camelot. Uther is not idle in his new hatred of magic. He is rounding up every sorcerer in Camelot that he can lay his hands on and executing them. Some are dying by the ax, but more and more are being tied to pyres and dying by fire. Men, women, and children alike are being burned by fire and the rage of their king._

_Tristan wasn’t idle either. He packed a saddlebag and ordered his horse saddled, declaring that he was going to Camelot. He swore that he’d kill Uther before he killed anyone else or ruined Arthur as he ruined Ygraine. As angry as I was with Uther, I tried to dissuade him, to wait until he was in a better frame of mind, but nothing I said could stop him. Even Elaine heard that her father was about to depart and came running into the courtyard to latch onto him. Normally his daughter’s presence would be enough to stay my husband, but not this time. He hugged her briefly and then shrugged her off into my arms in his hurry to be gone, leaving us to watch him ride out of Tintagel and toward Camelot._

_Gods know what will become of all of us._

  


The funeral rites were a bit more elaborate than the ones that had been observed in Camelot. Whereas Arthur had observed a vigil in solitude, watching – and weeping – over his father’s body throughout the night, followed by a short, solemn procession where six knights had borne his father’s body to the royal crypts. There, they had placed his father in the sarcophagus next to that of Arthur’s mother. A few solemn words were intoned by Geoffrey, and that had been the end of it. 

There were many similarities between Camelot’s traditions and those of Cornwall. There was a vigil to be held, but due to Elaine’s condition – the physicians had not determined that she was in danger of losing her unborn child, but had strenuously advised that she rest as much as possible for the foreseeable future – she was unable to participate. As a result, Pellinore had stood vigil in his wife’s place, and he was not alone. Several knights also participated, and even many of the servants, including Vevay’s personal nurse and her maidservant. Both women wept in silence, and Arthur could easily make out the self-recrimination in their eyes. 

The following morning, Arthur joined the procession as Vevay’s body was borne by a special carriage through the city, past the silent crowds that had gathered to pay their final respects to the princess who had been gone from them for years, but never lost. The crypts for the royal family were outside of Tintagel, surprisingly, and at Pellinore’s invitation, Arthur was one of the men who carried Vevay into the crypt. Her sarcophagus stood alone near the back of the crypt, and Arthur was reminded yet again that her husband’s body should, by all rights, have been laid to rest here instead of in Camelot.

By contrast, Elaine’s subsequent coronation was a rife of cheer and celebration. Where everyone had dressed somberly and discreetly during the funeral rites, the city exploded into a rife of color and smiles as Elaine walked to the gates of the city where, by tradition, the princes of Cornwall were crowned in full view of their people. She knelt just outside the gates, resplendent in blue robes unlike any Arthur had ever seen. Clearly this was some kind of fashion that Cornwall had kept to themselves. 

A herald cried out, “People of Cornwall, say you will have Elaine, daughter of Vevay and Tristan, as your Princess? Yay or nay?”

The response was completely one-sided, and quite deafening to boot.

The ensuing celebrations were exuberant, to say the least. Gwaine enjoyed himself immensely, imbibing liberally on the free-flowing spirits offered and trying to get Merlin to join him. Thankfully, Merlin seemed to have gained some control of his need to consume large amounts of alcohol, and was thus in a better position to make sure Gwaine didn’t disgrace himself, not that Arthur thought that he would. Gwaine was generally a cheerful drunk, as opposed to a sullen or mean one.

Arthur didn’t have much of a chance to speak extensively with Elaine, due to the constant demands on his time, but what time he did have with her was filled with her telling stories. She spoke of the things her mother had told her as a child, but also stories of her own childhood. She had few memories of Tristan, but the ones Elaine did have she treasured, and was happy to share them with him. Arthur was thus able to have a clearer picture of the man who had been his mother’s twin brother. Elaine remembered him with the adoring eyes of a child, but that was perhaps as it should be. Arthur tried not to think of how he would have been at the end, so full of anger and hate that he threw himself into a challenge in a vain attempt to avenge the sister he’d lost.

  


_**Tintagel** _

_A letter arrived from Camelot. Tristan was killed. By Uther. He apparently came to Camelot and challenged Uther, claiming that Uther would pay for killing Ygraine with his own death. They fought, and Uther killed him. Uther then ordered that Tristan’s body be laid to rest in the royal crypts next to Ygraine, instead of returning him to his widow, as would be proper._

_My husband is dead. My husband is dead._

_My son is dead too. My son died the moment I read that letter, the moment I saw that Uther had killed Tristan. He slid slowly from my body and the physician later informed me that he was dead before he could draw breath in the outside world._

_I hope the gods curse you, Uther Pendragon. I hope you suffer every day for the rest of your life, and in whatever lies beyond. You killed my husband and my son. I pray you never know peace, that your own children come to hate you._

_I pray the gods curse Nimueh too. Meddling in things that ought not to be meddled with is what started all of this. I hope she and Uther both rot for what they have brought upon us._

_I hope they both burn._

_Addendum: I have ordered that all trade and contact with Camelot cease. Let Uther and his godforsaken kingdom rot._

_I have commanded that if any knight of Camelot crosses the border, they are to be killed on sight and their head is to be sent back to their king. If Uther is so foolish to cross the border, he is to be brought to me._

_I will cut out his heart personally._

  


After three days’ worth of celebrations, however, Arthur knew it was time for him and the others to return to Camelot. Elaine had her own work to focus on, as well as her family, and didn’t need the added strain of constantly having to entertain a visiting king. 

The morning of their departure, however, found Arthur being dragged by Elaine into her study, away from pestering children and servants and Merlin who kept insisting that he had _not_ misplaced Arthur’s tunic. He allowed his cousin to pull him over to her large desk where, he was surprised to see, there was a small chest sitting at the corner.

“This is for you,” she said, laying a hand on the chest. “I think you’ll find them… informative, to say the least.”

Arthur blinked. “Them?”

She glanced down and her own eyes widened briefly in surprise. “Oh, right.” With a few snaps and turns, Elaine flipped the lid open to reveal the chest’s contents.

Books. Several tiny bound tomes, all stacked neatly and to best advantage to take up as little space as possible. They filled the chest to the very top.

“They’re my mother’s diaries,” Elaine explained softly. “She gave them to me shortly after she handed me the regency of Cornwall. She said that it would be best if I had some kind of an understanding of all that had come before in her life.” 

Arthur gazed at the contents of the chest, his heart pounding in his ears. These past few weeks had schooled him on so much about his family, more than he’d ever learned in all of his life before he’d come to Cornwall. But this? This was a treasure beyond price, and she was just offering it to him like this?

“I can’t promise that they will answer all of your questions,” Elaine continued, “but I think that they will give you at least _some_ answers.”

He continued to stare at the books. Vevay would have written about his parents, he realized, about his mother’s family, and maybe even a little about his father’s, if he was fortunate. The life of his kin, before he was born and they tore each other apart.

“Thank you, cousin.” His tone was breathless, and his hand trembled as he carefully closed the lid. “I shall guard them with my life.”

They left the room together, the chest tucked securely under Arthur’s arm. As they strode through the corridors, intent on making their way to the courtyard where his knights and Merlin – provided he had managed to locate the missing tunic, of course – should be waiting for him, Arthur turned to Elaine. “I’d like to formally invite you and your family to visit me in Camelot in the future. It would be my honor to introduce you to my wife.”

Elaine beamed at him and stopped just before they walked out the doors of the castle. Leaning up, she pressed her lips against the skin of his cheek. “The honor would be ours to accept, Arthur. I fear it shall be some months,” she added, her hand drifting down to the swell of her stomach, “but I will certainly take you up on the offer as soon as feasible for both of us.”

Arthur grinned as they walked out the door together. He would tie the chest securely to his saddle, keeping it close on the journey home. He would start reading the diaries left behind by the aunt he’d barely known, and learn at least some of the secrets that had plagued him his whole life. He would return to Camelot, secure in the knowledge that, for the first time, he actually had a _family_.

As Arthur led his party out of Tintagel, Merlin appeared beside him. “So,” he said, “not bad for your first diplomatic visit, yes?”

Arthur glanced at him. “It was eventful, to say the least.”

Merlin nodded cheerily. “And hey, no woman came along and tried to enchant you into falling in love with her! Definitely a success!”

“ _Merlin_!”

  


_End_

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born from the utter heartbreak that Arthur suffered at the end of the fourth series, watching as, yet again, a family member stabbed him in the back. I wanted to try to create something involving a blood kin relative that wasn't out to kill and/or betray him. This was the result.
> 
> I'd like to thank the following people:
> 
>  
> 
> [Soneaselene](http://soneaselene.livejournal.com), for her excellent betaing. This story wouldn't be here without her.
> 
>  
> 
> [Satavaisa](http://satavaisa.livejournal.com), for the gorgeous artwork. I was completely wowed by her beautiful creations. The master post can be found [here](http://satavaisa.livejournal.com/26742.html), so please take a moment to leave her some feedback as well!
> 
>  
> 
> [The Muppet](http://the_muppet.livejournal.com), for all her hard work in modding the challenge. She's worked so hard and made [Paperlegends](http://paperlegends.livejournal.com) such a joy to participate in.


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